


Zero Hour

by spectreshepard



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Development, Fluff, M/M, We Got It All, if they don't appear now they will in later chapters rest assured, secrets and the art of keeping them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 11:00:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 135,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10569936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectreshepard/pseuds/spectreshepard
Summary: Shepard wakes up on the Hyperion after his death in the Normandy SR1′s destruction. The reasons are unclear, and there’s past matters of the heart and mind to contend with, let alone an entire new galaxy where being Commander Shepard isn’t good enough anymore.





	1. Zero Day

**Author's Note:**

> A very short chapter to start this monster off. This is definitely going to be a story that develops as it goes, so, like Ryder, you get front row seats to me winging it. Enjoy!

The first thing Shepard feels is the cold. It’s the feeling of having sleep ripped from your grasp, skin exposed to the bitter air, goosefleshing as icy teeth find purchase. He sucks in a gasp of breath, teeth clashing as the movement jars his body from the final throes of sleep -- god, the deepest sleep he can remember--

Cold hands, fingers too numb to feel, curl around the edge of the metal cot he’s lying on. He doesn’t register the feeling, only that he knows he has something solid to cling onto, because whatever ground he thought he had under his feet has just shattered with seismic force as his realisations slowly, slowly sink in. 

The realization that he’s _alive_.

His eyes still see the burning Normandy, broken into pieces, a mirror for the way Shepard had felt, drifting in dead space without a lifeline. He remembers how his lungs were on fire, the pressure caving in on his hardsuit, but his eyes were fixed on the ruins of his ship from afar, and they never once strayed until he let them close. They didn’t open again. Not until now. 

And _now_ was... far away. Beyond his understanding, his comprehension sluggish as he wakes, slowly, piece by broken piece. He doesn’t know where he is, or how he’s here. He knows he should be dead. 

And Shepard knows that dead men don’t dream.

 

* * *

A few days is nothing in the scheme of things, but it seems like an age to wait when humanity is about to start all over again. Alec Ryder is a patient man, but time is a fickle thing when you cross dark space with twenty thousand human lives on your shoulders. He scowls at the faint readings beeping through the console in front of him, Captain Dunn throwing orders to the skeleton crew of the Hyperion from somewhere behind him. Alec swipes the console, ignoring the sudden commotion, and hones in on the data display. They had limited power, no communication from the Nexus, and one hell of a responsibility to all those sleepers on board. It becomes stifling when he dwells on the thought longer than he should, so he murmurs for SAM to close the display as he turns and steps away, eyes roving over the quiet bridge of the Hyperion.

They were nearing their golden world, Habitat Seven, and Alec had eyes set on the ground. They needed a foothold, resources, information. They needed stability. Foundations to build on. Pathfinder is more than just a title in that moment; it’s a promise. 

And for all the hell he endured to get to Andromeda, Alec intends to deliver.

“Pathfinder, we’ve got a situation in the cryo bay!” someone manages to direct a sentence his way, and he catches it with no small measure of concern. A cold pang of fear settles after he thinks of Scott and Sara, about to be woken in a world where he couldn't give them a home. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to them before they’d even made it. Stowing the thought away, he grits his teeth as he acknowledges the young officer and makes his way to the tram. 

The tram whirs with a gentle familiarity in a broken network of things left half-finished, functionality being diverted in attempts to conserve power, to protect their people. Alec can taste the steel of desperation on his teeth, and he wishes for something sweeter. A better beginning. His stomach lurches as the tram grinds to a stop outside the cryo bay, and he steps out through the doors, eyes fixed dead ahead as he approaches the so-called situation. 

The commotion grows louder as he nears the final set of doors, and Alec strains to hear exactly what was being said. He can catch snippets of words, the sounds of a disagreement, voices rising and falling as the conversation is pulled in two directions. Alec swipes the lock on the door, strolling through with his usual steely demeanor, dark eyes falling on the situation in front of him, and a familiar, golden pair of eyes stare right back.

“Ryder.” the man growls, perched on the edge of his cot as Dr. Carlyle scans him with his omni-tool, brow knitted in total confusion. This man had a name that slipped the briefings, alerts flashing up with every scan: he’d missed every basic prerequisite for the journey to Andromeda, and carried a worrying title that almost everyone on that ship knew. Dr. Carlyle doesn’t look up, but Alec can feel the man’s eyes burning a hole right into his head where an unspoken question follows. 

_Who is he?_

Alec Ryder knows full well who this man is. He knows that he carries a dead name with dangerous associations, heroic achievements and a story that too many people knew. His throat is dry as a bone, so he refrains from speaking for a moment, simply bringing up his omni-tool for a scan to aid SAM’s understanding of the situation. 

“Pathfinder, I believe this is the condition of the deal you made with our benefactors.” SAM hums over their private channel, and Alec rolls the artificial words around his mouth, eyes hovering over the man’s tense body language, eyeing up every escape route he had out of this bay.

Approximately zero.

“His records state his name as--”

“I _know_ who he _is_ , SAM.” Alec interrupts, the AI growing quiet as he lowers his arm, omnitool flickering off. The silence grows heavy, almost uncomfortable as Alec waits for Harry to finish his initial scans, and a shared glance told Harry he needed to be elsewhere. The doctor clears his things and leaves, turning his attention onto the matters he could fix. 

The man shifts off the cot so that his feet touch the ground, but his grip remains steadfast, and Alec can see the shakiness to his limbs that give away the fact he’s only just woken. Better this way, Alec supposes.

“That’ll wear off.” he says easily, voice level as he watches the man who only turns to glare at him. The anger is palpable, filling in the cracks appearing across their silence. 

“Good. In the meantime, maybe you can start by telling me _where the fuck_ I am!” 

Alec doesn’t miss the venom in his voice, and for a moment longer than he’d like, he considers whether he’d made the right decision, agreeing to this benefactor’s condition. The Initiative had spent too long hanging by a thread, that when the certainty of solid ground finally showed up, Alec found himself desperately trying to reach it -- by any means necessary. Backing down was not option, and it still isn’t. He’s here, with twenty thousand lives behind him, waiting for a home. 

Alec simply hadn’t accounted for _this_ particular life. He knew about the conditions all along, he knew this name would be waiting when they reached Andromeda, but the reality had failed to hit him until now.

The ground he’d fought for now seems so unsteady below his feet in the face of that name, and Alec doesn’t want to think about the retaliation when this man learns the truth of his place on the Hyperion. Swallowing his doubt, Alec simply squares his shoulders and stands straight, finally regarding the man as a shadow of the N7 he used to be, of the N7 that man used to know. There’s a glimmer of recognition in those eyes, and Alec almost grimaces, his words tasting fouler than his thoughts.

“We’re in Andromeda, Shepard.”


	2. Footfall

Shepard's feet hit the ground of the cryo bay heavily, his body waking slowly. He can feel his biotics surging through his circuits, through the parts of him that didn't feel like they were his anymore. He feels disjointed, heart pounding too hard, body too slow to move. His eyes sting with the bright light in the room, and Alec's stare isn't helping.  
  
 _Andromeda_. Alec had said Andromeda. Shepard knows he isn't making that up.  
  
Shepard doesn't know how to think of it, doesn't know how to say it in a way that means something, anything, to him. It only feels far-away and cold, not real, not _here_. Alec Ryder is many things, Shepard knows, but a liar isn't one of them. A graveness to Alec's voice had given him away, had settled the truth out between them, clear as day for Shepard to look upon. A wave of nausea hits Shepard in that moment, his stomach twisting into ugly knots of panic as he lurches forward, the room spinning of its own accord, and he squeezes his eyes shut, hands finding grip on the metal cot in front of him that stops him falling. He can hear Alec's footsteps next to him. He wishes he was _anywhere_ else but here.  
  
"This is a shock to the system. You need to wake up properly before we tell you any more." the same, level tone, the N7 voice, the words Shepard can easily place from another time before now. Rio, Elysium, Eden Prime -- N7 wasn't the only thing following him to Andromeda. Shepard forces his eyes open with a harsh breath that whistles between gritted teeth, pain flaring up where his biotic implant sits at the top of his spine.   
  
"I'm calling Dr.T'Perro. She'll get your on your feet, then I can-- _explain_." Alec's omnitool flickers on Shepard's peripheral, the colour jarring against the stark white of the cryo wing. Shepard just wants to get this over with, and he pushes himself up with a groan, his stature giving him the height advantage over Alec, grim satisfaction sitting in his gut.  
  
"The least you can do is explain _now_." Shepard hisses, flexing his hands as feeling starts to return to his fingertips, the pads smooth and free from the welts and callouses that Shepard knows were there before. His body feels wrong. A new shape that isn't his, not quite. He wonders if it's the cryo wearing off, or if there's something more to just how he ended up here. Alec's distance only serves to pique his curiosity, and Shepard isn't a patient man.  
  
The Pathfinder doesn't reply, his dark eyes fixed on his omnitool that beeps and flickers with information that Shepard doesn't care about. A dull anger surges through him, and he huffs out a breath, nostrils flaring as he closes the distance between them with purposeful steps, his disorientation quickly fading.   
  
" _Alec_." Shepard's voice is firm, stronger, and he leaves Alec with no room for side-stepping or walking away from the question. Not this time. Shepard needs to know.  
  
"What do you remember?" Alec finally speaks, uncertain, already trying to map his way out.   
  
"I remember seeing my ship in pieces. I remember sitting in deep space, and I couldn't breathe. And then I wake up, here. There's a gap that needs filling in somewhere, don't you think?" his tone is accusatory, dangerous in close quarters, and Alec feels instinct kicking in as he steps away, eyes narrowing as he regards Shepard.   
  
The last time they met, Shepard was fresh off deployment from Elysium, from the Skyllian Blitz. Alec knew he'd lost both parents in the ugly dogfight, and he felt a strange sense of obligation to do right by the boy as he observed his N7 graduation. They'd worked together on occasion after that, covert ops in the run up to Shepard's posting on Torfan. Then the line went dead. The next he heard was from his son, who wound up serving on Arcturus with that familiar name.   
  
Two years later, the man was dead. Scott had taken it hard, for reasons Alec never understood. For reasons he'd never asked about. It didn't matter; the past stays where it is.  
  
Alec sighs, a hand coming up to rub his chin, trying to think of the best way to piece his answer together. Bringing Shepard back had been... a challenge. Not something he was ever involved in, but he knew about it, and that was enough to implicate him in Shepard's red-tinted view. And he isn't planning on being at the receiving end of Shepard's ire in dark space with no way out.  
  
"I'll be honest with you--"   
  
"Oh, _finally_." Shepard sneers, but a glance from Alec shuts him up, and the older man carries on.  
  
"I don't fully understand it myself. You _were_ clinically dead, as far as I can tell. They brought you back--"  
  
"Who's _'they'_ , Alec?"   
  
"Cerberus."   
  
Shepard feels his stomach drop, his chest constricts with a breath he can't get out, and the cold comes rushing back. It collars him, wraps around his body and holds him in place, rooted in a doubt he thought he'd never have. _Cerberus_. Of all the shitty luck--  
  
"Is everything alright, Pathfinder?" a new voice joins the cold room, and Shepard can barely stumble out of his realization to lay eyes on the asari. He blinks, almost defaulting to his greeting for Liara, but by the time the reality settles over his shoulders like a fresh set of chains, the doctor is reading his vitals with another fucking omnitool scan. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Shepard opts for silence as he sits weakly back down on the cot, eyes drifting uselessly across the room.   
  
Andromeda. Two point five million light years away. Even at the height of their technology, this... this took a while. Letting out a long, slow breath, trying to ride out the wave of his panic, he finally looks at Alec again.  
  
"How long have I been asleep for?" the question is loaded with a kind of fear Alec can't place, but it unsettles him, a different kind of cold settling over his weathered skin.  
  
"Six hundred and two years."   
  
Shepard visibly crumbles. His shoulders fall slack, head falling into his hands as he tries to stop the room from spinning, but nothing quite makes the right kind of sense anymore. Six _hundred_ years. The Milky Way is good as dead to him, along with the people he left behind. He tries to picture their graves, how rotted and twisted they must look now. Have their names been weathered away? He imagines running a finger over broken letters, trying to write a name he can't remember. Who went first, he wonders. Who died in service? Who lived a full life and died of old age? The sheer concept of lifetimes lived while he slept is staggering, overwhelming, and it fills him with a grief he can't speak. Shepard remains in his self-inflicted silence, shaking, but not because of the cold.  
  
"I'll leave you to it." Is all Alec says, before he turns to leave. Shepard wants to stop him, wants to make him answer for a life that he was owed. Shepard wants an answer for a life that was taken away from him like he was a possession, a tool to be used, passed around between whoever had the highest bid, and it twisted the gnarled root of his grief into an anger that hurt but had nowhere to grow.  
  
"What am I _doing_ _here_ , Alec?" Shepard asks lamely, the fight all but kicked out of him. Dr T'Perro hovers nearby, feigning nonchalance as she administers a pulse from her omnitool to run a check on Shepard's implants. Alec is halfway out the door when he catches Shepard's question, and he stops mid-walk, foot setting back down slowly as he turns to face Shepard. There is no clear-cut answer he can give, no brutal honesty in a place where reason simply doesn't exist. Shepard is a soldier in a world where conflict is yet to be found. Preparing for the worst always seems to invite it, and yet, Alec can't tell him any of this. Alec might have designed SAM and offered a simple solution to many of the Initiative's problems through it, but the bottom line remains: he's a soldier too.  
  
"I don't know, Shepard," Alec speaks slowly, unsure, and Shepard stares blankly back at him, "But I know another N7 might just save our asses if this ends up going south."   
  
It's enough, Shepard decides. He acknowledges the reply with a nod and fresh steel in his eyes.  
  
"If I'm fit for duty." Shepard murmurs quietly, and Alec's minute smile is the first glimmer of hope he's felt in Andromeda.

* * *

  
The asari doctor introduces herself finally after Alec's departure, and Shepard finds himself in easy conversation with her. As easy as he can be right now, anyway.  
  
"Why'd you come out here?" is the first question from Shepard's lips, eager to understand, to know, to have a reason for Andromeda, even if it belongs to someone else. He needs a foothold, a foundation to work from, and Lexi seems to be sympathetic to his current situation. She sighs, picking up a datapad from a workbench nearby. The numbers blink in and out of focus, outlining a function Shepard doesn't quite understand.  
  
"A friend convinced me," she says, tone simple and unerring, "And I wanted a life worth talking about."   
  
Easy enough, Shepard contemplates. New galaxy, new start -- he can see the appeal, to an extent. For _others_.   
  
"Huh. Must be nice to be here with reason." Shepard replies, a bitter edge creeping into his words, and he knows Lexi is observing him like a hawk, even if her eyes remain on the datapad. Nimble fingers swipe for another implant diagnostic, and if Shepard wasn't so used to being scrutinized by ship doctors, he'd almost think there was something wrong. Lexi lowers her datapad after a moment, though, fixing Shepard with a curious glance. She wants to ask something, but she isn't sure how.  
  
"I, ah, overheard your conversation. It must be a shock." she begins, her nonchalance slipping back into place as she directs him to follow the movement of her pointer finger, left to right.   
  
"You could say that." Shepard drawls, sarcasm threatening at the edge of his words. There's a quirk to his lip that betrays him, and Lexi frowns momentarily, before her features smooth out into that nonchalant mask.   
  
"You really don't remember what happened?" Lexi pursues her line of questioning, carefully constructed, and painfully analytical. But Shepard knows all the information is sitting right there on that datapad in her hands. He humours her question, regardless.  
  
"I _died_." Shepard snorts derisively, already sick of the notion swimming around his mind on repeat. It seems so entirely ridiculous, even more so when he says it out loud. He died. And came back. In an entirely new galaxy. He shakes his head and rubs his tired eyes, still feeling the effects of a six hundred year nap wearing off.  
  
"Look, you know what happened to me. It's all there, isn't it?" Shepard sighs and motions to the datapad, watching closely as she takes his pulse, fingers cool against the warm skin at his wrist. Lexi's lip quirk into something of a knowing smile, but it lacks humour.   
  
"Yes," she confirms, dropping his wrist gently and noting the reading down, "But I wanted to hear it from you. I can get a better idea of where you are, and... well, wouldn't you rather someone take an interest in your wellbeing than read it off a datapad?"   
  
She has a point. Shepard realises how lonely he feels in the face of all this, and Lexi's practised motions make him feel a little more at ease. Not entirely, but... a little.   
  
"I guess. Thanks." Shepard mumbles, feeling smaller and smaller as he begins to turn his mind to the vast unknown waiting outside this ship. He's mostly still numb on the outside, a necessary defense, something to curb his grief until he finds himself entirely alone.   
  
The examination passes with amicable conversation, and Lexi starts to see a picture building of the man behind Commander Shepard. She knew the name, of course, the stories were everywhere back home, and she'd watched with bated breath as the Citadel crumbled under Sovereign until Shepard and the Alliance forced an enemy retreat. There's something deeply humbling about being in his presence, but the more she talks, the more she finds herself at ease around the man. He's... not quite what she'd expected, but then, when had she ever expected to be running a post-cryo exam on _Commander Shepard_ , of all people? Andromeda was going to be full of surprises, and this is only the beginning.   
  
And Shepard? Lexi can only hope he finds a way to survive out here, because she knows there's no way back for any of them.   
  
She finishes the last few points of her exam, adding the notes to his record on file, and then she turns to face him again. He's watching, impatient, fingers tapping out the same rhythm on the metal cot.   
  
"All done. You're good to go, though... I'm not quite sure _where_ you can go." Lexi admits, raising an eyebrow as she eyes her comm channel, hoping for correspondence from Alec regarding Shepard. She gets nothing but silence, and she dismisses her omnitool with a sigh.  
  
Shepard looks amused, more than anything, but it's hard not to see the way he's almost physically holding himself together. He's anchored himself to the cot, feet planted on the ground, eyes fixed forward as if he's afraid to move. Lexi knows what grief looks like, and she feels a pang of sympathy as she watches him glance down at his hands, and then back up at her, as if to say _'I know.'_   
  
"Here." Lexi passes him her datapad, left open on his file. He'd need ID to access anything else, and... he deserved to know what-- _who_ he was. What had happened. What Cerberus had built. Lexi spares him a gentle smile, meant to reassure, and he takes the datapad from her hands.  
  
"You need this more than I do. Take your time, and I'll find out where you're cleared to go. In the meantime, there's coffee for you, and a little light reading." Lexi clears up the last of her equipment as she speaks, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the mugs and freshly brewed coffee before she turns to go. Shepard thanks her silently, not quite trusting his voice any further.  
  
When the doors slide shut behind her, Shepard makes an attempt to stand, clutching the datapad tightly. His legs don't feel so shaky anymore, and he heaves out a sigh of relief as he makes his way across the empty floor to the coffee, nerves already fraying without a caffeine fix. He sets the datapad on the workbench, eyes roving idly over the lines of text and bullet points that somehow manage to sum up the mess of his life in short, neat sentences. He pours himself a cup of coffee, holding the mug to his lips as the steam warms his nose and the familiar smell allows him a brief respite from Andromeda.   
  
_Two years and four billion credits._   
  
That's how he's alive. Shepard almost wants to laugh at the sheer price tag alone, a twisted sense of humour churning at his insides when he thinks of how badly they must have wanted him back. Hell, he'd have been happy to die there and then. In the line of duty, making sure his crew got back safe... that wasn't the worst way to go. Shepard takes a sip of his coffee, burning his tongue but enjoying the bitter taste, hoping it would help him feel less sluggish as the rest of him plays catch-up.    
  
Cerberus. The name is familiar, but it brings a bitterness with it that doesn't belong to the coffee. Shepard swallows, the hot liquid filling him with warmth from the inside out. Cerberus has never turned out to be something good, in the few occasions he's stumbled across their paths. There's a quiet fear that his reconstruction might not have been entirely straightforward either. He swipes upwards on the datapad, scrolling down to read further.  
  
 _Cybernetic implants to reconstruct the skeleton, biosynthetic skin reconstruction, manual restart of vital organs--_  
  
The details are grim, and Shepard's mouth quirks downwards in a scowl as he reads further and further, morbidly interested in the details of his own personal story of Lazarus. It made him feel like a weapon, built for a singular purpose. What the purpose _is_ , Shepard can't place. Not right now.  
  
A subtle beep at his left wrist alerts him to a strange black band, where the signal was emitting from. Frowning, Shepard sets his coffee down by the datapad and taps the bracelet, and a familiar orange interface flickers into life. Ah. Understanding settles where the question used to be, and Shepard manages to stumble his way to a comm channel, opening up the link to his caller: Dr. T'Perro.  
  
"Uh, hey?" Shepard murmurs tentatively, uncertain if he was even pressing the right buttons. Lexi's response sweeps his fears aside in short order, however.  
  
"Ah, Shepard. Good to see the new interface works with you."   
  
"Yeah, it's... uh, smaller. More compact than the old ones. Had to fit everything in, huh?"   
  
"Precisely. It does the job well enough, though. Good for communication, which is what we need right now. And on that particular note: Alec's asked for your presence on the bridge. He's got something for you to look at, apparently."  
  
"Right. No problem." Shepard is pleasantly surprised by the request, glad of a direction, until he remembers that this ship is totally new to him, and he could be anywhere.  
  
"Actually, just one problem. How do I get there?"    
  
"You're in a secluded cryo-wing. Just head out of the doors and you'll reach the tram point -- there's an interface on the tram, head for the habitation deck and Lieutenant Harper will meet you there."   
  
Simple enough. Shepard finishes the last of his coffee as the call ends, and he fiddles with the omnitool until it flickers off. Making a mental note to spend some time with the new interface, he turns and heads for the doors, apprehension rolling in over sore shoulders as he considers what Andromeda has in store for him.


	3. Consequence

Ark Hyperion is _staggering_. Shepard can't begin to fathom the extensive network of the ark, or how many lives are on board, still in cryo. He feels uneasy as the tram surges forward, the interface flashing with his destination navpoint drawing closer and close. There's a certain kind of desperation behind all of this, Shepard thinks, sparing a glance out of a darkened window as lights flicker past, too quick to really see. He curls a hand around the safety rail as the tram slows, harsher than he expected. The doors whir open softly, a too-sweet voice simpering over the comm that he'd reached the habitation deck.   
  
Stepping out, he realizes the lights here are dimmer, much less blinding than the ones that had been on in the cryo bay he was in. He's grateful for it, already feeling the tension pulling at his biotic implant, making his jaw ache. Ascending the steps to the habitation deck, Shepard idly wonders about his reconstruction. He swears he can feel the subtle differences already, given the way his legs move with almost mechanical motion as he takes the steps two at a time without any real effort. He feels artificial in himself, and it's hard to shake the idea that he _is_.   
  
Another set of doors open, granting him access to the main floor of the deck. Craning his neck, he glances around at the vast space, and how empty it seems. Didn't they wake up more people? Or were they waiting for something? Shepard had plenty of questions for Alec, but he knows they'll have to wait. Turning his attention back to his immediate surroundings, he watches as somebody makes their way to his position with purposeful strides and a steel-eyed glance. It doesn't faze Shepard in the slightest, he folds his arms nonchalantly and leans his weight back onto his left leg, a comfortable stance. He doesn't know anyone here, not yet, and he can't afford to be giving away his weaknesses already. Not that he can even place them, given how strange his own skin feels. The woman draws nearer, and he tries to recall the name Lexi had mentioned. Harper? Lieutenant Harper. Obviously important, given the fact that she's awake, and already at Alec's command.   
  
"Shepard?" Her voice is clear, sharp in the distance of the deck, and Shepard almost wants to stand at attention when he hears it. There's something about her, a reminder, and Shepard isn't quite ready to find what it is yet. While he might have been feeling smug about his height over Alec before, Harper is all but craning her neck to match his glare, and he instantly feels too tall, too vulnerable and in the open. He simply chooses to acknowledges her question with a nod, relaxing visibly when she nears and holds out her hand, the other resting behind her back, tied up in formalities. Shepard extends his own and gives a firm handshake, not missing the way Harper's eyes flash with something close to relief. Was she expecting something else? He wonders, almost entertained by the idea of Alec already warning his crew about the grumpy bastard they'd just woken up. Hands fall back to their sides, and Harper is quick off the starting line.  
  
"I wasn't expecting to be greeting you, of all people." She admits candidly, but Shepard only appreciates the honesty, and he manages a quiet smile in her direction. The corner of her lip quirks up in a faint mirror, but it's forgotten as she turns and gestures towards the bridge, signalling for Shepard to follow. They fall into step quickly, and Shepard is keenly aware of just how military she is. Even her steps are measured, regular, easily keeping up with Shepard's longer strides.   
  
"I don't think anybody will be." Shepard replies wryly, glancing sideways at the lieutenant, cogs whirring in his mind as a picture starts to form. She reminds him of someone, that much, he knows. He avoids going any further, tearing his attention from her to the doors they're heading towards.  
  
"You might be right. Still, you're a welcome addition to the team." Harper's words glean a little more context to Shepard's situation, and his interest is piqued at the mention of a team. Had Alec recruited him already?   
  
"Team?" Shepard pushes the question, briefly glancing back at her. Harper stalls, realising her slip.   
  
"The Pathfinder needs a ground team. He specifically asked for you, and he'll be able to brief you once we're on the bridge." Cora summarizes, her composure falling back into place just as quickly as it had disappeared. Shepard huffs, accepting the answer with a quiet feeling of confidence, glad to know he could at least be useful. Stewing about the past in a galaxy that relied on the future was never going to be any help, despite how much he might want to.  
  
They ascend the steps to the bridge in a comfortable silence, and Shepard chews on the thoughts rolling around his mind. A ground team? Do they even understand what's out there? Shepard can barely string together a coherent thought regarding the idea, before Harper's opening the doors to the bridge, and Alec meets him with an expectant stare.   
  
"Thank you, Harper." Alec turns his attention to the lieutenant who acknowledges him with a nod as she moves back down the bridge to a console that takes up her attention. Alec gestures for Shepard to take a look at the console he's standing at, a holo of a planet spinning slowly emerging from its display. Shepard can't help but feel like Alec is about to throw him into the fire. Typical N7.  
  
"I'll keep it simple: the Andromeda Initiative pulled together FTL telescope readings to map out a potential course through Heleus--"   
  
"Heleus?"   
  
"This cluster." Alec pulls at the display so it expands to a cluster view, and Shepard takes in the sight with wide-eyes and a quiet fear of the unknown. His hand stretches out to turn the holo, fingers nestling in stars that he had no idea how to pull apart. The task is daunting, and Shepard can't get a handle on it. Swallowing his words, Shepard nods for Alec to continue, withdrawing his hand to rest on the console. He ignores the fact that his fingers curl around the metal like a lifeline, grounding him.  
  
"In that course, we established the possibility of golden words. Habitats capable of supporting life, increasing our viability, giving us a foothold for long-term establishment." Alec explains, turning the holo and expanding into system view. It all seems so familiar, like navigating the galaxy map in the CIC back home. Only, this map was waiting for them to make it _real_.  
  
"Solid ground." Shepard sums it up in simpler words, words that made more sense to his own mind, and Alec confirms with a nod.   
  
"And we're on course for Habitat Seven," Alec continues, hands expertly honing the holo into the planet that was there when Shepard first walked in, "Humanity's best hope for a home out here."   
  
No pressure. Shepard meets Alec's gaze through the holo, frowning. Alec seemed so sure of this, so set on a destination that nothing else seemed to really matter. What if these worlds were inhabited? What if these worlds were unlivable, and the FTL scans were wrong? The margins of error grew bigger and bigger with each and every thought that passed Shepard's mind, until they grow too heavy, too loaded to leave alone.   
  
"And what if solid ground doesn't exist?" Shepard voices across the console, and the holo disappears as Alec deactivates it with a heavy sigh. Those thoughts had clearly crossed the older man's mind too. And for once, Shepard doesn't feel so alone in his doubt. Andromeda is a gamble, a huge risk, and they were playing with human _lives_. The notion makes Shepard feel cold to the core.  
  
"It has to. For all our sakes." Alec retorts, a rare moment of weakness in the face of a man who knew high stakes better than anyone else on this ship. Shepard is starting to think he has more of a purpose than just bringing extra firepower. Moving carefully around the console, he steps up to the railing that separates the central console from the rest of the bridge, overlooking the main flight controls and comm hubs. After a moment, he feels Alec's presence beside him, and an unspoken agreement hangs in their orbit.   
  
"Alright," Shepard breathes, the air heavy with a responsibility neither of them could shelve, a responsibility that N7s knew far too well, "Whatever you need."   
  
"Thank you, Shepard. And I mean it." Alec is rarely so upfront, and unease settles in Shepard's gut as well as an understanding: Andromeda was going to put up a fight, and it was up to them to survive. Twenty thousand souls at sea, and they needed to find a port before the storm hit.  
  
Alec seems tense, for a reason that doesn't belong to the conversation they'd left in their wake. Shepard knows he's building up to something else, but he's content to wait until Alec is ready to spit it out.  
  
Thankfully, it doesn't take long.  
  
"There is... one other matter." Alec starts slowly, eyes fixed forward, watching Andromeda surround them out of the viewing windows.   
  
"Alec, I've got nowhere to run. And running isn't my MO anyway, there's no point keeping secrets." Shepard groans tiredly, beginning to feel irritated at the way Alec is so deliberately skirting around information that Shepard knows he's going to need, sooner or later.  
  
"Have you met SAM?" Alec asks nonchalantly, as if they were speaking about the weather, or something equally as mundane. Shepard simply stares blankly at Alec for a moment, not able to recall meeting anybody by that name in the short time he's been awake. Alec's lips quirk into something that Shepard might call a smile, but he isn't sure.  
  
"Simulative Adaptive Matrix. SAM. Our AI." Alec simplifies.   
  
_AI._ Shepard balks at the term, his dealings with AI strictly limited to geth, and... that doesn't bring back pleasant memories. They killed, they maimed, they destroyed. Shepard had no other concept of artificial intelligence outside of that, and it shows on his face; lips quirking downwards into a grimace as his eyes narrow, turning to Alec with suspicion.  
  
"I know. Geth. The Citadel. Saren. Your file has it all." Alec is quick to react, a quiet understanding settling in his dark eyes as he regards Shepard with a familiarity that he hasn't seen in a long time, not from Alec. Shepard wants to slam his foot down on the idea before Alec goes any further, but something compels him to hear him out, so he chews the inside of his cheek morosely as he stops his words from spilling out.  
  
"But those geth were separate from their creators. They existed as their own being, not symbiotic in nature. It's inevitable that their eventual priority would turn to survival."   
  
"Survival doesn't mean _slaughtering_ people." Shepard growls, composure slipping. It isn't directed anywhere in particular, but he knows Alec is in his firing line.  
  
"No, it doesn't. And what happened with the geth was awful. It guided my ideas to a better outcome. An AI that depends on its counterpart for survival, a symbiotic relationship -- the AI can give you an edge that nobody else has, while also requiring your survival and co-operation in order to learn, which is its primary function."   
  
Shepard listens with mild curiosity, his stubborn heart clinging onto his hatred nonetheless. He can feel it slipping. Alec might be speaking about things beyond his comprehension, but he understood enough to know where Alec is trying to go.  
  
"And this... SAM?" Shepard voices a final thought, the final thread that links Alec's explanation to a concept Shepard can grasp.   
  
"SAM is that AI. It relies on sensory input to learn, and it allows precise control over your own abilities in return. Symbiotic." Alec summarizes easily, with a nonchalance that irritates Shepard more than it should. The Alliance would never have let him work that far into AI, given that the research was illegal in Citadel space. How did he even establish such an idea? Shepard is baffled more than he is reassured by Alec's own creation, and he says as much.

"There's no way the Alliance would have stood by and watched all this."

"They didn't. I was discharged. The Initiative needed SAM, and so I got the funding and the purpose through them. It's why I'm here, and why SAM is part of me now."   
  
"You have an AI in your head?" Shepard tenses, hands gripping the rail, skin pulling white over knuckles.  
  
"Yes. It's like a biotic implant."   
  
"No, it's _not_. My implant doesn't have the autonomy to decide it wants to _kill me_."   
  
"Shepard, you're reading too much into this--"  
  
"Then convince me, Alec. I know you want to put SAM in my head, so convince me."   
  
A tense silence settles over them, Lieutenant Harper glancing up at the sudden spike in their conversation, but she turns away when they grow quiet again. Alec leans back, a hand resting idly on the same rail that Shepard is clinging onto.   
  
"You're N7. You shouldn't need convincing to do better."   
  
The line hits him like an icy blast to the face, sucking the breath out of him for a moment as the deck turns bitterly cold in Alec's wake. Shepard is brutally reminded of his time in the Villa, doctrine drilled into him like his life depended on it. And when he thinks about it, he's lost count of all the times his N7 training has saved his life. It may be brutal, it may be thankless and buried under red tape nobody else could break, but Shepard wears his N7 rank like a morbid badge of pride. Alec Ryder knows that better than anyone else in Andromeda.   
  
Shepard stands upright slowly, fingers sliding off the rail as he curls them into fists and swallows the last of his doubt. He turns to look at Alec with an answer written in his eyes, and that's all the older man needs to see.   
  
"You're making the right choice, Shepard." Alec says, but Shepard doesn't really want to hear anymore.  
  
"It's about time I did." Shepard responds quietly, and there's a brief flicker of recognition in Alec's eyes before they turn to the door, gesturing for Shepard to follow. 


	4. Artificial

Shepard is _sick_ of the sight of med-cots and scanners. He's visibly stressed as Lexi scans for his biotic implant, fingers hovering at the base of his neck from behind. She notices, and backs off slightly, turning his attention to her datapad where the scan readings were compiling into numbers that Shepard could vaguely understand. It seemed to distract him, but she can't help but feel Alec's presence isn't helping at all.  
  
"So, what, you're just going to extend my implant?" Shepard decides to pick Lexi's brains, the silence in the room growing thinner than he'd like.  
  
"Not exactly," Lexi sighs, trying to find the right words, "It's enhancing the function of the implant you already have. Allowing SAM to gain access."  
  
The thought still sits uncomfortably under Shepard's skin, but he's able to ignore it this time. There's more to Andromeda than his own fears, and he'd have to bite that bullet sooner or later.  
  
"My wife designed that implant." Alec's voice is the quietest Shepard's ever heard him speak, and a vague memory pulls at Shepard's mind. It's a hot day, the sun beating down over his dress blues, making him uncomfortably warm. Rows of people, faces he can't remember, the smell of metal in the air. A row of N7 graduates, remarkably few, and Alec observes with a faint smile. It's the same voice he used to congratulate Shepard on his new rank. Familiar. Kind. Not something he'd usually associate with Alec Ryder. Blinking, Shepard ushers the thought away and glances over to the man in question, who stands with his arms folded.  
  
"That biotic implant in your system? Based off her designs. She used that to integrate SAM. It's as much her work as it is mine." Alec explains, and Shepard gets the feeling Alec isn't quite in the same room as he is.  
  
"Is she on the ark?" Shepard asks, curious as to her whereabouts. A shadow falls over Alec's expression, and before he can reply, Lexi taps Shepard's shoulder from behind, a new kind of scanner sitting in her free hand. Shepard almost rolls his eyes, half-tempted to spit out a snarky comment and be done with it, but he refrains.  
  
"This might sting, Shepard. SAM doesn't know your physiology yet, you'll need to give it a few moments to adjust." she warns, and Shepard nods, hands gripping the metal cot again, hard enough to leave harsh red lines where the metal digs into his skin. Lexi's right; it stings like hell when the scanner presses flush against the back of his neck, and he winces as a harsh jolt shudders through him. He immediately feels a presence, somehow, somewhere, something that doesn't belong to him and it ties his stomach into knots. A cool shiver runs along his spine, static building at the nape of his neck. He feels a vibration pulsing through his chest before fading into nothing, and then his nerves flare, along with his biotics.  
  
"Hello, Shepard. I am now fully integrated, and I apologize for any discomfort you experienced during the upload."  
  
Shepard freezes, the voice jarring, shattering into incomprehensible pieces against his cold skin. For a brief moment, he wants SAM gone, out of his head, but SAM can _feel_ it, and Shepard hesitates.  
  
"My priority is your wellbeing, Shepard. I will not hurt you." SAM's voice is dangerously soothing, a metallic balm for the stinging nerves as SAM learns him, inside and out. Shepard breathes out harshly, and he can almost feel SAM running along his nerves, every live wire in his mainframe is buzzing with activity. He wants to feel invaded, wants to hate it, but... he doesn't.  
  
"Shepard?" Lexi hovers nearby, casting a wary eye over the way he's hunched over, flaring nerves settling down as the biotics disperse over his skin. He just replies with a grunt, shaking his head as the last of the static wears off, and he rolls his shoulders as if that might help. It doesn't do a thing.  
  
"I'm good." Shepard voices after a moment more, and Lexi seems satisfied with that, even if she keeps an eye on him as SAM's diagnostics drift across her datapad screen. Alec keeps his silence, eyes fixed on Shepard as he moves off the cot to stand, an obvious uncertainty to his movements.  
  
"Find anything good up in there, SAM?" Shepard drawls sarcastically, pushing up the sleeves of his sweater. SAM crackles over his implant with another pulse, making Shepard grimace, but the smooth voice returns moments later.  
  
"That depends on your definition of 'good', Shepard."  
  
If Shepard wasn't sure about SAM before, he could certainly look at it a little differently now. The response almost seems sarcastic, even if Shepard struggles to believe that an AI could grasp that concept as surely as he could. When he looks at Alec, he sees a half-smile, amusement in his eyes as he observes the interaction. If SAM was going to learn, Shepard would give him plenty to analyze.  
  
As always, though, Alec is the first to turn the conversation to their next mission.  
  
"We're aiming for planetfall today. I need you on the ground team. Small and quiet, establish a forward station and see how we go." Alec delivers it in the same old, matter-of-fact tone that Shepard is used to hearing from Alliance officers, and he supposes that military life never leaves you, even 600 years away. A fresh pang of guilt hits him, but he says nothing as he stretches, shoulders pulling with a satisfying pop. The last of his fatigue seems to drift away like nothing, and he can finally focus in on Alec's words.  
  
"How many of us?" Shepard asks, slipping back into comfortable territory, a soldier's territory.  
  
"We're waking another wave out of cryo now. All in all, about ten are heading groundside, if all goes well." Alec sums up the basic facts, and Shepard nods, taking them in and drawing up his own strategy like second nature. That's all Shepard needs to know, and Alec shifts his weight, turning to Lexi with a question instead.  
  
"Lexi, any word on Scott and Sara?"  
  
The ground beneath Shepard's feet disappears in an instant as soon as 'Scott' hits his ears, his heart is pounding on the edge of panic and he pours everything into finding a fixed spot to set his eyes on. He's on the brink of a tidal surge of memory, which he only holds at bay because there's people here. _Scott_. Scott Ryder. The name is warm, tastes like whiskey on his lips, feels like strong hands roaming across his chest, over his thudding heart. He sees blue eyes and a wicked smile, remembers lips that knew every weak spot on his body. He recalls waking up beside him in tangled limbs, night after night that didn't exist in sequence, only scattered across an orbit Shepard used to roam, an orbit that didn't exist anymore. And most of all: Shepard remembers saying goodbye.  
  
SAM hums across his synapses, tastes like metal for a brief moment that brings Shepard crashing back into the cryo bay.  
  
"Is everything alright, Shepard? Your heart rate has spiked considerably, I recommend sitting down."  
  
Shepard curses SAM silently, his stomach in knots again as he tries to calm his breathing, counting under his breath in ridiculous motions that did absolutely nothing to help. Somewhere, he can hear Lexi's voice, but he pays no attention, shaking his head and fixing his eyes on the ground, a hand reaching to scratch at his left arm to distract him. Voices swim back into clarity, sounding less like record scratches and more like actual words, and he catches sight of Lexi in front of him now, no longer blurred. She's got a hand on his shoulder, trying to push him gently back down, which is something of a feat given how he practically looms over her. He obliges, if only to make her job easier.  
  
"He seems to be exhibiting signs of an anxiety attack, Dr T'Perro." SAM's cool voice lingers over them, Shepard blinking as he tries to claim back some ground. He manages an inch or so, before Alec is in his peripheral, half an order tumbling out from his mouth, broken from its grim line. Shepard pays no mind, focusing on himself, and the way he can feel SAM working to restore a balance. It's soothing, the way his breathing slows and his heart stops hammering so hard, like being able to control his body at will. SAM is bringing him down gently, and Shepard finds himself in grim appreciation of the AI.  
  
"Shepard? Drink this." Lexi's holding a cup of icy water, which Shepard takes and sips at gingerly, face flushed with tension. She watches carefully, a hand ready in case his shaking fingers cease their grip. SAM informs her that he is returning to standard vitals, and the edge of concern ebbs away slowly.  
  
"You're fit for duty?" Alec is straight to the bottom line, as always, and Lexi spares a mildly annoyed glance his way. Shepard just nods, not put off in the least by Alec's lack of concern. The reality is, Shepard doesn't expect Alec to understand, or care. And he's glad that Alec doesn't ask anything further before he leaves. There's only so much skirting around a subject Shepard can master before the real reason becomes obvious: Scott Ryder means much more than Shepard would ever want Alec to know.  
  
"Are you sure you're okay?" Lexi sighs after Alec's retreating back is obscured from view by the doors once again. Shepard looks at her with a strange expression, something she can't place. She decides it's not for her to find out -- not there, anyway.  
  
"I'm good, honestly. I get these attacks sometimes, they're... manageable." Shepard admits, taking another gulp of water as his sentence finishes on a less than confident note. Lexi takes the admission as enough for now; Shepard knows his own limits, she's sure, but she makes a point of letting him know that matters of the mind require as much care as the body. He seems grateful for that, at least.  
  
"I'll let you settle. SAM is still reading your physiology, but it's fully connected. You can speak with SAM if you're curious, and SAM can learn a bit more about you in the process."  
  
"Yeah. Alec explained that part. Symbiotic." Shepard snorts, but there's no malice behind his obvious skepticism, "Thanks, Lexi."  
  
Lexi seems surprised at his sincerity, but she smiles regardless.  
  
"You're welcome, Shepard. I need to go and oversee Scott and Sara's pods, but you have my channel on your omnitool - if you need anything, just open a link."  
  
The name hits him again, but Shepard's prepared this time. He exhales sharply through his nose, acknowledging Lexi's parting words with a faint, quiet smile of his own. She leaves then, and Shepard is finally alone.  
  
The space he's in expands to infinity as he lets himself drift away, fingers finally uncurling from his anchor when he lies back on the cot, a hand resting over his own steady heartbeat. The vast white of the ceiling becomes a horizon line, the peripheral filled with a darkness that belongs to the stars Shepard is so accustomed to. They harbour cold and far-off memories, as well as those he holds close to him. Scott is one of them, a bright spot on the canvas, a safe harbour of his own.  
  
"Shepard?" SAM reminds him that he's not exactly alone as he first thought. Shepard tenses momentarily, still getting used to the way SAM seems to speak along his skin, along the nerves of his system.  
  
"Yes, SAM?" Shepard responds cooly, still looking out at the stars he's pulled together from his mind.  
  
"Scott Ryder will be woken from cryosleep shortly. Do you wish to see him?"  
  
The question hangs starkly upon Shepard's sky. He hadn't considered just how much SAM would notice. Of _course_ he wants to see Scott, but there's a lot to be said between the two of them, and it wasn't for anybody else to hear. Shepard had left Arcturus Station with a promise to come back, and... he didn't. He got himself killed, and that's all Scott knows. Shepard swallows thickly, the situation now hanging heavily by a thread.  
  
"I don't think that's a good idea, SAM."  
  
"Perhaps the situation would be best resolved in private, before you are expected groundside."  
  
SAM has more intuition than it lets on. Shepard frowns, screwing his eyes shut. His sky of stars disappears, instead replaced with endless dark and shapeless words from a conversation he can't see. Doesn't want to see.  
  
"You can do that?" Shepard asks, not quite seeing how SAM can help.  
  
"I can deliver a message to Scott, as well as a navpoint." SAM chirps helpfully, and Shepard's brow softens, the hard edges fading as the idea starts to take shape.  
  
"Alright. Just... keep it discreet, okay?"  
  
"Of course, Shepard."


	5. The Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely comments so far, they're really motivating me to keep going with this idea! <3 Hopefully I'll be able to answer your questions as the story progresses, but, like Ryder, Shepard's gonna have to work for a lot of those answers. I'm feeling really good about this particular story, so I'm really looking forward to seeing what you guys think of it as we go ^^

The wait seems _insufferable_. Shepard hasn't bothered to get up from his place on the cot, choosing instead to lay there. He pinches uselessly at the skin of his left arm, teeth grinding down and tongue exploring the familiar ridges of his mouth while he tries to work out just how much of him is real. The datapad had told him plenty, but he needs to feel it, to actually believe it and understand the concept of his reconstruction. By all accounts, it eluded him completely, just how much work this took.  
  
And then there's the matter of Cerberus being directly responsible for it all. The thought doesn't sit well at all, sticks under his skin like a splinter that won't leave. There had to have been a higher price than what he's been told. No way Cerberus would have keeled over so easily when they had Commander Shepard in their hands. So, what spooked them? Shepard rolls the question over his teeth, as if he could tear it to pieces there and then to get at the bones of what brought him back. Alec had to know far more than he was telling him, and Shepard was going to get that out of him, sooner or later. He has questions spanning far beyond Andromeda.  
  
The loneliness of the room spurs Shepard into thinking too much about things better left unsaid. His crew. The Normandy crew. The distant thought of them writhes uneasily in his chest, twisting its ugly fingers around his heart and squeezing until it hurts. Shepard grimaces, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as his eyes screw shut and he tries to think. To hope. The context is there: they only know he died, and... that happens. That happens. They had to be ready for it, one way or another. They were taught to expect it in the line of duty, but still, the thought tastes so bitter on his tongue as he recalls their names. He almost hears the way Joker screamed at him from the final escape pod as Shepard hit the lock, although the noise is far away. But the faces are still so _real_. He remembers the heat of the firing beam driving through the remains of his ship, scorching his armour until it was him who was screaming, and then everything was ripped from aching fingers when he was thrown into dead space with no way back.  
  
Shepard forces his eyes open, feeling his heart beginning to race again at the memory. The only comfort he takes from leaving the Milky Way behind is a vain hope that anyone he'd cared about had lived a full life. And he tries not to think about those very lives that he might've missed. Particularly the ones he was... invested in. Like Ashley's. God, she would've _killed_ him if he'd come back wearing Cerberus colours. He wants to laugh at the idea, but he remains stony-faced with a dead stare at the ceiling, drifting in a dangerous chasm between two worlds.  
  
After a while, the silence grows colder than Shepard can handle, so he turns the only other thing in the room.  
  
"SAM?" the question hangs in the frigid air, and there's a familiar hum as SAM responds.  
  
"Yes, Shepard?"  
  
"Can you see my memories?" Shepard is curious. SAM obviously understands his physiology, acknowledges his feelings, but those feelings needed a context to really understand them. If this AI is as good as Alec seems to think... Shepard wants to know.  
  
"Not in the way that you perceive them." SAM's answer is more than Shepard had really expected.  
  
"So, you do perceive them? How?" Shepard pushes the question, wanting to understand. If he's going to work with an AI in his head, it'd at least be a starting point to accepting just how SAM works.  
  
"Your thought processes release particular hormones which are expressed as emotions. I can see these, and when a pattern emerges, I may be able to extrapolate your physiological data back to a common trigger."  
  
"So, you need more than one instance of a memory to really understand it?"  
  
"That is correct. However, some memories may require less extrapolating than others. For example, your past encounters with Scott required less processing than the understanding of your reconstruction."  
  
SAM can _learn_. Shepard is grimly impressed, despite how much he begrudges having an AI in his own body. That'll take time to get used to. For now, though, SAM's proven useful in such a short space of time. His attacks, SAM already knew how to counter and calm Shepard down. Even its understanding of Scott had surprised Shepard, and by now, he's willing to give SAM more of a chance before he writes the AI off totally.  
  
"Shepard, Scott is now awake." the AI beeps helpfully, but the statement only fills Shepard to the roots with dread. He groans quietly, dragging a hand down his face as he rushes to think of all the things he has to say, and not one single word will stick.  
  
"Did he get the message?" Shepard rasps, throat suddenly dry, even as he swallows.  
  
"Yes. He seemed... confused." SAM adds, not so helpfully. Shepard snorts, almost wanting to laugh at SAM's analysis. Of course Scott would be confused. Shepard's meant to be _dead_. Unless--  
  
"SAM, did you tell him who it was from?"  
  
"No. You said to be discreet."  
  
Shepard blinks, a little surprised at the AI's revelation. He did say to be discreet, he just hadn't expected the AI to quite grasp that concept. Shows how much he knows. Shaking his head, Shepard pinches the bridge of his nose again and rakes a hand through his hair, short and messy and in dire need of actual styling. He really doesn't want to be looking such a state, but waking up from a 600 year nap isn't doing anybody any favours in the looks department today, Shepard reminds himself drily.  
  
"Fair point. Thanks, SAM." Shepard murmurs, willing himself to sit up, even if the room is off-tilt and threatening to start spinning again. He swings his legs over the side and hops off the cot, and before he can even ask SAM where exactly Scott is, the lights go out.  
  
_Shit_. Power surge? Power reroute? Shepard scrabbles for purchase as the artificial gravity fails, and his stomach lurches violently when he's back in his hardsuit and clinging to the flaming wreck of the Normandy for a split second.  
  
"SAM!" Shepard panics, fingers curling around something, he's not sure what - it's heavy, and metal, and strong enough to hold him down. Anything to ground him, to make him realise he's not floating in dead space again. His throat closes up, teeth grinding as he forces down his fear, and breathing turns into a fight that he's struggling to win. The weightless atmosphere feels like it's wrapping chains around his ribcage, pulling as hard as it can, digging into skin and bone, using Shepard's visceral fear. He can't take it, he can't breathe, he's alone, alone, alone--  
  
_"SAM!"_  
  
"Breathe, Shepard."  
  
"I _can't!_ "  
  
"Lieutenant Harper is about to reset the power supply to the cryo-bay."  
  
"Fuck! Can't she go any faster!?"  
  
"Shepard, I will assist as best as I can."  
  
Shepard struggles for what feels like an infinite moment, caught in limbo between memory and the waking world, until he hits the cold metal floor with a shout. He just lies there, face pressed against the cool surface, his breath hot and fogging up the metal sheet by his mouth as he gasps, every breath burning as he gulps in as much air as he can. Fingers curl uselessly against the floor, finding no solid purchase. The chains around his chest rattle and shatter, but fear still pounds against his ribcage like a wild beast begging for escape.  
  
"Shepard, are you alright?" SAM's voice, soothing as ever, filters back into the room.  
  
"No." Shepard's reply is brittle, on the verge of hysterics as the lump in his throat budges only slightly as he swallows.  
  
"Would you like me to assist?"  
  
" _How?_ " Shepard hisses, turning his face so his forehead is pressed against the cold floor instead of his cheek. A hand settles on his left arm again, fingernails digging in, hard, until they leave harsh red welts along his skin. A pitiful whimper hits the floor, and Shepard is glad nobody is there to see this sorry mess.  
  
"I can alter your circulation to restore it to regularity." SAM explains cooly, and Shepard just wants to see straight, so he nods uselessly, before realizing SAM needs a verbal response.  
  
"Y-yeah. Do it."  
  
"Very well. One moment."  
  
Shepard can feel SAM working almost instantly, cooling his nerves in a way that felt both alien and yet, comfortably familiar. He feels the dull thudding of his heart slowing to a regular pace, and his ribcage expands freely instead of shuddering with every breath. His hands fall slack, fingers splayed out on the floor, and he feels every tightly wound muscle slowly relax as SAM works through him. Shepard simply lies there for a few minutes more, thinking of everything and nothing.  
  
He pushes himself up into a sitting position when his thoughts grow more numbing than anything else, and throws a glance at his surroundings. The gravity loss had scattered equipment across the bay, upturned mugs and powered-off datapads scattered across the floor and under cots. Shepard simply stares at the scene, unthinking, unfeeling, until a voice crackles through the room that doesn't belong to SAM.  
  
"Shepard, I need you on the bridge. Planetfall in thirty." Alec Ryder's voice is unmistakable, and Shepard is pulled mercilessly back into the reality of his situation. The comm line goes dead as quickly as it appeared.  
  
"SAM, is Scott heading to the bridge?" Shepard asks weakly, staring up at the ceiling as if SAM existed somewhere up there too.  
  
"Yes, Shepard. He received the same message from Alec." SAM confirms, and Shepard breathes out harshly.  
  
_Shit._  
  
Not where he wanted to see Scott for the first time in two-- _six hundred_ and two years. He gets to his feet, slowly. Andromeda is bigger than whatever past they might've had, and Shepard needs to understand that, but it doesn't make the fact any easier. And he hated to put Scott in a situation like that, more than anything. Shepard could deal with it, but Scott deserved better.  
  
Sighing, Shepard makes his way down to the doors to the tram bay, pushing every thought to the back of his mind, clearing the way for the mission. His N7 training slips back into place like well-worn armour, and Shepard knows he's going to need it.  
  
"SAM, weird question, but, uh, I don't suppose they packed my armour up, huh?" Shepard huffs as he steps onto the tram for the third time that day, omnitool hovering over the interface while Shepard inputs the destination.  
  
"My records indicate you have a locker with a full suit. It is custom-built to new specifications." SAM responds.  
  
"Custom-built? By who?"  
  
"Unknown."  
  
Shepard frowns, turning to lean back against the guard rail as the tram shudders into motion. He had a feeling he was going to be taking that armour apart, sooner rather than later. Who knows what bugs and tricks someone could load up in a suit like that? Shepard isn't about to risk it.  
  
The tram ride is uneventful, even if Shepard spent most of it half-expecting another power surge, unease pooling in his gut as he stares out the window at the flickering lights. Stepping off the tram is a welcome end to the trip, and he sets his sights on the bridge as he ascends the steps to the habitation deck. His hands are shaking, but it's hard to see when they're curled into fists.  
  
Almost bumping into a skittish engineer out of the door, he apologises to the man and picks up the pace, long strides carrying him easily across the deck and up to the bridge doors where he pauses, feeling a slight tremor across his skin. Swallowing thickly, he huffs out a harsh breath and shakes his head of the remaining thoughts, steeling himself like he would in a suit of armour, and he swipes his omnitool across the door lock, listening as it whirs into life and slides open, torturously slow.  
  
Shepard stares straight ahead, his eyes falling on Alec's familiar figure across the deck. There's others there: Lieutenant Harper, a taller man standing next to her, along with someone he presumes is the Captain. There's one more figure on his peripheral, one pair of bright blue eyes he'd recognize anywhere. He doesn't look, only walks forward, honing in on Alec's words as they falter in place of a greeting.  
  
"Shepard--" Alec is about to speak, but an all-too familiar voice cuts him off harshly and without hesitation.  
  
"What the _fuck?_ "


	6. Safe Harbour

Scott certainly never lost his gift of the gab. Shepard doesn't have much choice but to look at him, now. He's fuming. He can see it, it's not obvious, but he knows Scott, and he knows the way his folded arms are instinctive, a barrier. He knows the way Scott stares, intense, burning up at the edges like sparking off a real live wire. He can practically hear the way he's grinding his teeth, lips pulled thin over a snarl that doesn't quite make it.   
  
"Scott!" Alec brings a sledgehammer to an already fragile situation, as usual. Shepard all but winces when Scott takes the blow almost physically, head jerking to look at his father with an icy glare. Lieutenant Harper is watching with thinly veiled surprise, a slight raise to her eyebrow as she assesses the situation. Not one she'd quite expected, Shepard thinks. The man next to her looks almost entertained, and Shepard can't blame him either. This is a shitshow, and they've barely even started.  
  
"What, you honestly expect me to believe Commander Shepard just walked straight back from the _dead!?_ "   
  
"It wasn't walking so much as--"   
  
_"Shut up!"_   
  
Shepard blinks as Scott shuts him down, mouth hanging open on a remark that never gets past his lips. Scott's glaring at him again, and he can feel the way those eyes see right through him. Shepard is keenly aware of a gaping hole in his chest where he knows something's been missing ever since he woke, and he knows Scott is the only one fits the shape. It's a quiet yearning that Shepard full well knows it's best to ignore, but he's never followed reason so blindly. A new galaxy, a new start - why deny himself that chance?   
  
On his peripheral, Shepard can see Alec glowering at Scott, about to lay down the law, hard. A quick glance around the table tells Shepard that nobody quite knows where to go, and so he takes the lead, no matter what Alec might think.  
  
"It's alright, Alec. I owe him an explanation, but let's get _this_ over with, first." Shepard's voice is steadier than he expected it to be, and he's glad of it. Meeting Alec's angry glare across the console does nothing to faze him, and when Alec's shoulders relax and he turns his attention to bringing up the planetary holo, Shepard steals a glance from Scott. He hopes Scott understands, or at least has the patience to wait until Shepard can explain. He seems a little calmer, his raw intensity scattering under Shepard's gaze, but Shepard knows Scott is nowhere near satisfied with that. Still, their shared glance is enough for now.   
  
"Mainline power's been knocked out, we're running on reserves, Captain! They won't last!" A disembodied voice cuts through the air, brittle with tension that shatters completely against the fraying nerves in the room.   
  
Shepard watches as the bridge crew scuttle from station to station in frantic motions, trying to pull Hyperion out of the dark.   
  
"Helm control, report!"  
  
"We're drifting!"  
  
The smaller woman next to Alec turns to head down to the front of the bridge, barking out an order Shepard doesn't quite catch. Alec follows her, and Shepard manages to find her name: Captain Dunn. He ignores the conversation that follows, instead focusing his eyes out of the viewing windows where he sees a dark energy mass with snaking tendrils, currents sparking along each blackened finger threatening to pull the Hyperion further into unknown danger. The sight is ugly, and the prospect of getting caught is worse. He's vaguely aware of Lieutenant Harper and the man next to her following suit, moving down the bridge to get a better look, and leaving him and Scott alone.   
  
_Great._   
  
Shepard makes to move, needing to keep the situations separate, but Scott isn't having any of it, eyes already fixed on Shepard. His hand catches Shepard's arm as he passes, and the familiar touch of his skin sends a jolt right through him. Both of them are rooted in a memory of a place they'd much rather be. Scott's presence is so familiar, so _comforting_ in the mess Andromeda has been so far, and Shepard is dangerously close to slipping.  
  
"Shepard. _Cade_ \--" Scott's words are half formed, coloured by disbelief as his anger fades, fingers curling around Shepard's arm with gentle familiarity. Shepard relishes the touch, but his mind is in two halves already, and he's struggling to find a balance.   
  
"Scott. _I know_. I'm sorry. That message that SAM sent you? It was from me. I wanted to talk to you before--"  
  
"What the fuck happened?" Scott's words are clipped, fighting against their own voice. Scott is torn, and Shepard can't make it any easier on him; that wounds him more than anything.  
  
"Scott, please. I'll tell you everything when I can, but right now, we're gonna be dead in the water if we don't figure this out."  
  
"Everything?"   
  
"I promise."   
  
"You didn't keep the last one."  
  
Shepard stalls, Scott's words piling into his chest like an angry fist, knuckles branding a bitter hurt over his skin. Shepard lets out a sharp breath, and before he has time to retaliate, Alec's voice is taking the place of the Captain's, and Shepard is forced to turn his mind to the other half of his problems.   
  
"SAM, we need eyes out there!" Alec leans forward, hands gripping the guard rail as he waits for SAM's input, Captain Dunn standing next to him, almost in his shadow.  
  
"Attempting to adjust sensory array." SAM's cool voice is a balm for the room, a slight glimmer of hope that they had something smart enough to get out of this mess.   
  
Shepard feels the warmth of Scott's hand leave him, his arm cold where Scott's hand had left a faint mark. Scott isn't looking at him anymore, and Shepard takes the chance to slip away, heading down to the main deck where Alec stood. He can feel Scott's footsteps behind him.  
  
"Alec, please. You may be the Pathfinder, but this is my ship." Captain Dunn turns to Alec, a hand emphasizing her words as she sets the distance between them, but Alec shakes his head, pushing himself off the rail.  
  
"Captain, the protocols are clear: in the absence of communication with the Nexus or the other Arks, we proceed to our appointed golden world. _Solid ground_."   
  
His voice leaves no room for argument, but the Captain looks like she's about to try anyway.  
  
"If it's even out there! Nobody said anything about running into an energy cloud -- and that's just a wild guess at what we hit!"  
  
Alec doesn't seem set on replying, instead turning his eyes out to the writhing mass of energy that obscures their view. It lights up like a rolling storm, and Shepard wants nothing more than to be as far away from it as he can get.   
  
"Alec, I need to assess the damage. Stop the bleeding. We've got twenty thousand people asleep on this ship. Let's give them a chance to wake up." Captain Dunn perseveres, her tone growing quieter with loaded concern as Alec spares her a sideways glance, his focus still elsewhere.   
  
Shepard doesn't take much notice of the quiet murmurs from Harper behind him until Scott's familiar voice drifts over.  
  
"Solid ground is sounding pretty good right now."   
  
Alec slowly turns to meet his son with a stony glare, lips drawn in a grim line as he draws his hand in Scott's direction to lay down the law, and Shepard almost wants to step in-between them, if only for Scott's sake.   
  
"Pretty good isn't _good_ enough." the words are harsher than Shepard expected, and he frowns, a scowl pulling at his lips. Scott takes the verbal hit without so much as a flinch.  
  
"Yes, sir."   
  
Their momentary stand-off is interrupted by Dunn's exclamation as the swirling mass gives way to a world in full view. A planet, a golden world. Shepard fixes his eyes on the orb, hoping beyond hope that this is something of an answer to their problems, because he isn't sure how far they're going to get without one.   
  
"My God--"  
  
"That's Habitat Seven. 'New Earth', if we're lucky." Alec's voice breaks the stunned silence, and he moves quickly across the bridge to the main console where a planetary holo sits. He works with deft motions, a hand pulling at the holo to expand the view as he talks.  
  
"All of our long-range scans told us it was in the green zone, perfect for human settlement."   
  
Shepard isn't sure what happened to those scans, but the holo is... definitely not right. The planet looks scarred, wrapped in a faint mirror of the energy mess they'd broken through. Harper voices the same concern from somewhere behind him as he reaches forward, hands finding the guard rail as he leans closer to the viewing windows.  
  
"It doesn't even look the same." Harper sounds quiet, uncertain.   
  
"She's right, it looks pretty dicey from here. Are we sure about those long range scans?" Scott's own concerns join the fray, and Shepard is exceedingly glad to see he isn't the only one thinking that. Captain Dunn voices her agreement, and Alec hums disapprovingly, turning back to the holo.  
  
"It's been 600 years. Things can change. SAM?"   
  
"The energy from the phenomenon is damping our senses. Planetary conditions are unknown."   
  
It's the first time SAM's voice hasn't managed to instill some reassurance to Shepard, and that worries him. The human heart in him is holding a heavy fear that Andromeda isn't going to work, that they've doomed what they have of humanity. The N7 in him is tying together a plan, carefully skirting around doubt to find the corners of confidence; enough to build a foundation. Enough to start on. He's sure that Alec is doing the same thing, staring at the holo in contemplative silence.  
  
The entire bridge is quiet, all carrying the same fear. All holding the same hope. Alec is taking too long, and Shepard steps away from the viewing windows, closer to Alec's holo.   
  
"We didn't come this far to fall at the first hurdle." Shepard says simply, as if this whole thing could be fixed with a few bullets and a good plan. He knows that isn't going to be the case, but a ship full of dwindling hopes led by a Pathfinder who thought he had all the answers is going to do even less.  
  
"We're marooned. Twenty thousand souls adrift at sea, and when the power runs out, and stays out..." Alec meets Shepard's challenge, his shoulders squaring as he draws up to his full height, not quite reaching Shepard, but enough to pose his counterattack.   
  
"We need to know if that's safe harbour." Shepard finishes, unfaltering.   
  
"And if it's not?" Captain Dunn interjects, Scott and Lieutenant Harper standing nearby. Shepard's gaze drifts to Scott almost by nature, and Scott's looking right back at him, trying to find some confidence, somewhere.   
  
"As Pathfinder, it's my job to find an alternative. It's what we trained for, but if this goes well..." Alec glances back at the holo, "We're already home."  
  
Shepard finds no confidence in Alec's eyes, and that's enough to spell out a disaster awaiting them.   
  
"Harper, the rest of the team should be up by now. Have them spin up two shuttles for planetfall." Alec's orders fade into the background as Shepard turns to face their golden world again, trying to find some single shred of hope in that grim picture, but there's nothing. No single little spark, no sign of life, no chance for anything more than a glimpse of solid ground that's about to crumble beneath their feet.   
  
He hears Scott speaking behind him, directed to the Captain, but he catches no more words as he turns back, feet leading him back up the stairs to the top level of the bridge where Scott has already made his way to. He's looking out at their golden world with a different kind of hope than the one sitting in Shepard's heart, and it's in that look that Shepard finds his own reason for Andromeda.   
  
"Leaving without me?" Scott's voice settles around his shoulders as he strides past him, and his steps falter when he hears the dry humour behind those words and his heart shudders out a new beat, warmth seeping through his chest.   
  
"You seemed set on the view." Shepard responds smoothly, half-turning to face Scott, but Scott's already walking towards him, the ghost of a smile on his lips.   
  
"Not the view I want." Scott murmurs lowly, bright eyes landing on Shepard entirely, and he's entirely caught. It's like second nature, falling easily into his stride as Scott walks past him. The warmth in his chest drifts through him, curls around his torso and settles in his gut, a welcome replacement for the fear that was there before. It's the best feeling Shepard's found in this godforsaken galaxy.   
  
Shepard pulls together a half-cocked list of everything that he knows about Project Lazarus as they make their way to the tram, and it spells out a complex story with too many gaps in between the lines. His words don't fit together coherently, spilling out in half-sentences and stuttering words as he tries his best to put together a picture for Scott to see, to understand, but he can't fill in all the colours, and some of the lines are wrong.   
  
" _You died._ " Scott keeps coming back to this single point, and Shepard sighs as the words hit him again.   
  
"I _know_ , Scott. It wasn't exactly pleasant."   
  
"Look, I'm fucking glad you're here, but you _died_."   
  
"Scott..."  
  
"So, what, they just-- they just fixed you? Put you back together again, like in that stupid kid's rhyme?"  
  
"I... think it's a bit more complex than Humpty Dumpty. And I'm offended that you're even comparing me to an _egg_."  
  
"Shut up. I'm being _serious_!"  
  
"So am I!"  
  
Shepard can't help the desperate laugh that escapes him, just slightly off-kilter, not quite belonging to him, but Scott finds himself joining in as they enter the tram together. This is a joke. How can he even begin to think about Andromeda when he can't even piece himself together? Shepard sucks in a breath as Scott deals with the tram's interface, setting them on course for the armory and the shuttle deck. The rocky laughter subsides as Shepard leans back against the rail, his head hitting the tram wall as his eyes slide shut. At least one part of this shitshow was over, he thinks, feeling Scott's presence lingering beside him. Having Scott on board is a welcome feeling. Having him around is... making Andromeda easier to bear.  
  
"I missed you."   
  
Shepard isn't sure he's heard that, or if it's some old memory playing on his mind. He opens his eyes slowly, finding Scott's own blue staring back at him expectantly.   
  
"I'm fucking pissed at you, but..." Scott's voice is unusually quiet, and if Shepard can see the tips of his ears turning red, well, he doesn't say anything, "That doesn't change the fact I cared about you."   
  
Shepard just stares at him, mind blank. It throws him off his course entirely, veering straight back to an orbit that he used to know inside out, but now he's fumbling along the same lines as Scott is, and the thought instills a quiet confidence in him. Enough to go on.  
  
"I'm sorry." is all Shepard manages to say, the word caught up in a bigger meaning that Scott knows well enough.  
  
"For what? Dying?" Scott's lips quirk into a smile, and it's all Shepard wants to see right now.   
  
"For not keeping my promises."   
  
"Yeah, well. What's past is past."   
  
"Does that include us?"   
  
Scott is silent for a moment longer than Shepard would like, and he waits for the reply with bated breath, golden eyes fixed on Scott's own blue, stumbling across their own equinox with shaking hands and bolder hearts.  
  
"We're still standing, aren't we?"   
  
  



	7. Freefall

Time. Scott needs _time_. Shepard has plenty of it. The thought sits comfortably at the forefront of his mind while Shepard pulls his armour on, feeling much better in the safety of the hardsuit. He's been too exposed at the mercy of Hyperion, and after the gravity loss, Shepard wants nothing more than ground beneath his feet.   
  
Even if that ground is looking less and less solid by the minute.  
  
Shepard sighs as he fiddles with the clasp on his chestplate, catching drifts of Scott's conversation with Harper across the armory by their own lockers, and he hears mention of Scott's sister in the air. Chewing the inside of his cheek morosely, Shepard quickly stems the rush of grief that pulls at heart and bone as the Milky Way keeps trying to take shape in the back of his mind where old memories sit. There's nothing he can do. There's no way back. He can keep telling himself that until kingdom come, but he knows he's not going to believe it until he sees Andromeda for himself. The anticipation hums along his skin, fingers twitching over the last few seals of his armour. He rolls his shoulders to settle the plates, and he notices the way they feel so light over his undersuit. His armour had never been cumbersome or bogged-down with useless plates, given his vanguard training, but it had certainly felt a lot sturdier than this. Frowning, Shepard takes a closer look at his gauntlets, double checking the clasps and the seals, but he finds nothing out of place.   
  
"Is there a problem, Shepard?" SAM passes over his skin like a jolt, and Shepard blinks, feeling that the AI's voice is much closer than usual. Nobody else in the room pays them any notice.  
  
"Armour feels off. Too light." Shepard quells his thoughts and gets straight to the point instead, pulling his leg up to rest on the bench as he runs a gloved hand over the boot clamps.   
  
"There were numerous advancements in technology made in the two years following your death, many of them centered around the development of armour and firearms." SAM informs him, and Shepard huffs out a sharp breath, bringing his leg back to the ground, rolling on the balls of his feet as the leg plates seal with a reassuring hiss of air.   
  
"Makes sense." Shepard murmurs quietly, unceremoniously shoving his casuals into the locker.   
  
"Your armour is also fitted with biotic conduits. Small pockets of treated element zero that behave as amplifiers." SAM adds further, and the concept grabs Shepard's interest, head snapping up at the mention of _eezo in his fucking armour._   
  
" _Eezo_? What if my armour breaks!?" Shepard hisses, trying to keep his voice low as the ground team begin to filter out one by one, caught up in their own conversations.  
  
"Treated eezo, Shepard. It is harmless unless reactivated, which requires a particular electrical current you are unlikely to encounter in the field."   
  
Shepard's fears quieten after that, and he heaves out another sigh as he collects the rest of himself together. They were heading blind into a mission on a planet they know nothing about, in a galaxy they know nothing about, and Shepard doesn't even have a team he knows he can rely on. This is going to be one hell of a wake-up call, Shepard thinks, pulling his helmet out from the locker and slamming the metal door shut. The locker room is quiet, only Scott and Lieutenant Harper left talking idly by the doors. There's a quiet flutter in his stomach as he wonders whether Scott's waiting for him, but Shepard ignores the feeling, almost berating himself for thinking such a thing when they were heading out into a complete unknown. He stops by the arms locker, casting an experienced eye over the guns on offer. He glances over at Scott, who's carrying a pistol, and the thought strikes him: going into uncharted, possibly inhabited territory whilst fully armed is going to look bad. He has to remember that they're here to explore, even as every instinct he has is screaming at him to pick up a fully loaded Avenger. Grimacing, Shepard turns his eye to the Carnifex, small and discreet, and holsters it securely. Turning to the doors, he contents himself with the notion that he's a melee specialist, and if everything went to shit, he could always punch some lights out.  
  
The armory doors whir shut behind him as he's the last one out, Scott and Harper already ahead of him. Shepard walks with confidence and purposeful strides, now that he's in his armour, the red N7 emblazoned on his chestplate like a bloody medal. In a way, it is. The thought that he and Alec are the only N7s in this galaxy leaves a strange, bitter taste in Shepard's mouth. They had no military standing here, only vague tradition guided by memories that would soon die out in favour of more hopeful things. N7 would lose its meaning, lose its history, but when Shepard considers the things they had to do to get there... he thinks maybe it's a good thing. N7s follow their own code, colour everything in their own shade of morality, making those calls like they have any right to toss lives away like they do. It's not a pleasant thought to carry, and Shepard wouldn't dare let anybody else take it.  
  
The whir of the shuttles draws closer, and they slide into view as Shepard passes through the final set of doors, eyes drawn to the group of people amassing. Shepard tries not to think about the way his armour sticks out as he joins them, greeting Alec with a nod as the older man almost smiles in his direction. _Almost_.  
  
Shepard can feel Scott's gaze again, blue eyes burning straight through his new armour, and he wants to laugh at the stupidity of it. Shepard's done things that most people in this room have only ever heard in stories, been places that they've only seen in snapshots, faced down enemies that could easily have ended his life in an instant if they wanted to. Shepard can deal with all of that, it's become legend but... it's _his_ legend, his story, and he knows how to carry it.   
  
But one stupid look from Scott Ryder is more than enough to trip him up.   
  
It's almost as if Scott knows what he's thinking, and Shepard sees Scott smile to himself out of the corner of his eye as he turns his attention back to a man hunched over a med-crate. Shepard recognizes the face, but he isn't sure--  
  
"Doctor Carlyle, with everything going on, I'd think the ark needs you more than we do?" Lieutenant Harper is the first to point out the obvious, and it's a statement that Shepard finds himself agreeing with after recognition sinks in. This was the man who'd brought him out of cryo. And they were still moving more people out of cryo back on the Hyperion: the first wave. It certainly feels like they needed the medical attention more than a group of combatants were going to. Carlyle closes the crate and stands, turning his attention to Harper.  
  
"Pathfinder wants a medic on hand."   
  
"We expecting trouble?" Shepard tries to glean some more insight into their mission, but Carlyle just shrugs and shakes his head, before fixing Shepard with a curious glance as he notices his armour.  
  
"Not from you or our Pathfinder." Carlyle says drily, and Shepard's lip quirks up into a thin smile. "Wasn't expecting two N7s, but I'm not going to complain unless either of you come back with more bullet holes than success."   
  
_Fair enough._ Shepard nods, feeling a little more at ease when he finds familiarity in the friendly banter that usually piped up before a mission back home.   
  
"And if that is our home down there, I'm happy to knock on the door." the doctor adds, turning back to Harper as he finishes his explanation. Scott walks forward a few steps, eyes taking in the rest of the shuttle bay as he listens to Carlyle.  
  
"Well, if it's what we hope it is, it'll be one for the history books," he says cheerfully, half-turning to glance back at the group with a grin, "Got a quote ready? _'One small step...'_?"    
  
Shepard snorts, masking his laugh with a huff instead as he watches Carlyle haul the crate into his arms.  
  
"I'm pretty sure your dad will handle that honour."   
  
The conversation ends as the doctor disappears behind the shuttle to load the crate, and Shepard can feel the apprehension in the room much more clearly now. It's electric, sparking with every word and glance, humming beneath skin as everyone sets their hopes on a home.   
  
"Alright, team. Button it up, we leave in five." Alec's voice cuts through the atmosphere with ease, command never quite leaving his shoulders in spite of his discharge from the Alliance. Shepard respects that, enough to pay attention when he asks.   
  
"Sir, we broke out the weapons as requested. Anything else we should know about?" Harper takes a few confident strides towards Alec, obviously not entirely at ease with the firearm situation. Scott follows her, his own expression harbouring the same question. Shepard can't deny them their concern, but for him, he feels... _bare_ without his usual arsenal of firepower, and Alec looks to be in the same boat.  
  
"Seemed prudent, given the situation. We'll be shorthanded with Sara out." Alec says simply, though his tone drops on the last few words as his sight lands on Scott. A quiet conversation ensues as Alec steers Scott a little ways from the group, hand tight on his shoulder. Shepard gives them their privacy along with Harper, who walks over to his position with nonchalance, although Shepard can plainly see the questions she's carrying.  
  
"You ready?" she starts off simple enough, and Shepard smirks, choosing to humour her.  
  
"Always am." he replies, arms folding across his broad chest.   
  
"I can't get my head around what might be down there," she admits after a moment, exhaling sharply as her stance mirrors his own, "Spent all that time drafting up plans and now we're running in blind."   
  
"That happens. We just need to get off to a good start." Shepard sighs, leaning back against one of the shuttles, feeling the shudder of its drive core. Harper seems reassured by that, if only slightly. He chews absently on his lower lip as he thinks of something else to further conversation, and he realizes he doesn't have a name for her. Harper seems so distant, almost callous, like a second thought when you couldn't remember a name. And if he was meant to be getting on with these people, a first-name basis seems like a nice place to start.  
  
"Can I ask your name?" Shepard blurts out, a little less smoother than he'd like, but Harper just looks at him with vague surprise that turns into a quiet smile.  
  
"It's Cora." she says gently, and immediately, Shepard feels better in her company. She's looking at him expectantly, though, and Shepard realises she's expecting his name back. That idea feels... strange. Hell, even his own crew never referred to him by name, only Shepard, and that never bothered him.   
  
New galaxy, new start, he reminds himself lamely.   
  
"Caderyn. Uh, most just call me Cade." Shepard says, his own name feels uncomfortable on his tongue, but the reply seems to satisfy Cora, who nods in his direction and her smile grows a little more confident. They remain in companionable silence until Alec calls them back, and they assemble around the shuttles. Shepard spares a glance Scott's way, and he can see a lingering worry in those eyes of his. He wants to make it go away, but now really isn't the time. Before Shepard looks back over at Alec, Scott looks up, catching Shepard looking his way. He doesn't smile properly, but it's better than nothing.  
  
"Alright, team. Listen up." Alec calls them back to attention, and Shepard watches as his words paint an inspiring picture. He doesn't take notice of everything, but he hears enough to understand that Alec's doing his damnedest to get some confidence to the group. They definitely need it, Shepard thinks, but it's a thought he'll keep to himself. Shepard is a born leader, he knows that much and he'll tell anyone so. His ego isn't borne of nothing: he has achievement after achievement behind him, a row of medals on his chest that turn stories into truth, and a pair of eyes that can see a disaster waiting before anyone else can. Shepard hopes there's a way around this particular one, but he won't know until he's on the ground, and that's as much as he can aim for.   
  
"We only get one chance to be first, so let's go make history." Alec's final words almost garner an eyeroll from Shepard, but he refrains, if only to keep up the pretense that he's at all okay with what's going on. The assembled group disperses into their shuttles slowly, and Scott watches as the man who he'd seen on the bridge with Cora earlier passes by Scott with a grin and a friendly punch to his shoulder. Scott looks somewhere between excited and absolutely terrified. Shepard knows there's only one way to find out how he's going to hit the ground.  
  
"Let's go." Shepard hears Scott call over to him, noticing Cora following Alec and the doctor into one shuttle, along with two others he doesn't know. Scott waits for Shepard to make his way over before they step onto the second shuttle together, and Shepard is immediately greeted with another old memory of shuttle rides over the Citadel. He closes his eyes as the shuttle takes off, the small space filled with chatter and comms over the hum of the drive core. For a moment, he can pretend he's back with his old crew, with old familiar voices and old familiar ground. It doesn't last long at all, though, and Shepard blinks his eyes open when he feels Scott at his side, dangerously close. He's leaning against the door, in conversation with the man from before who introduces himself as Liam Kosta. Security and response specialist. Intriguing. Shepard invests some brief attention to the exchange, if only to distract himself from yet another foray into his past.  
  
"Wow. Would you look at that." Liam sounds in awe, and he has every right to be. Shepard looks out of the shuttle window, eyes roving across the twisting mass that envelops the Hyperion.  
  
"Whatever it is, it stopped the Hyperion in its tracks." Scott murmurs from next to him, and Shepard can barely get over the idea. The Hyperion is massive in scope and size alone, and this... phenomenon stopped it without so much as a struggle, Hyperion now firmly wrapped up in its mass.  
  
"It appears to be an unstable mass of dark energy." SAM's voice fills the shuttle as Shepard pulls his helmet on, the ambient chatter carrying a thin edge of static when he nudges the seal into the right place, the clasps sealing with a quiet hiss. He likes the feel of the helmet, not as heavy and cumbersome as they used to be, and when he rolls his neck, the weight doesn't pull at all. Satisfied, Shepard exhales sharply and pushes off the wall of the shuttle, moving to look closer out of the window.   
  
"Not gonna lie, it's bloody nice to have an N7 in this shuttle. Honour to be running with you, Shepard." Liam's accent is thick and British, and Shepard smiles, his own accent feeling a little less out of place now.   
  
"Let's hope you still feel that way when we get back." Shepard replies drily, sparing a glance to Liam who grins back at him, and Shepard finds a promising thread of alliance in there, somewhere.   
  
"Sounds like a challenge, ey?" Liam snickers, turning to face the window as they make their way through the mass, the electric hum traveling over the shuttle in feeble rumbles. Shepard catches the last of a few words directed at the shuttle pilot -- Kirkland, Shepard recalls -- and moments later, the shuttle reaches cruising speed as they make for atmo-entry.   
  
"Hard to believe we're finally doing this." Liam breathes, bracing himself against the window as the shuttle crosses into atmo.  
  
"Beats reading the brochures." Scott quips, feigning nonchalance, but Shepard can see the way he's tensed up inside his armour, fingers curling and uncurling over his bicep as he folds his arms.   
  
"You had _brochures_?" Shepard asks, morbidly entertained by the idea that the Initiative spurred such propaganda surrounding a 600 year voyage through dark space with no real idea what they'd find.  
  
"By the dozens. You want one?" Scott sniggers, some of his tension unfurling in careful hands as Shepard distracts him.  
  
"God, no." Shepard manages a quiet laugh, and it fills the shuttle, an easiness settling over the group.   
  
"Beginning our deceleration, planet's dead ahead." Kirkland informs them, and Shepard reaches up to find a grip on one of the shuttle's overhead beams, bracing himself as the deceleration force hits. Scott stumbles back, and Shepard instinctively reaches out to stop him, the interaction hidden from Liam's line of sight. Scott freezes for a second as Shepard's hand meets his back, before finding his balance and holding onto the door rail. He glances behind, and Shepard catches the sight of blue eyes through Scott's visor. They don't say anything, the bright burn of atmo-entry casting a vivid orange light across the shuttle. Resistance picks up, the shuttle juddering through into the planet's main atmosphere as the bright light fades and the world comes into view. Scott turns his eyes back to the window, and Shepard is already looking at the way the rocks aren't even on the _ground_.   
  
_Holy shit._  
  
Liam voices Shepard's thoughts aloud, interrupted by Cora over the comm.  
  
"Shuttle two, are you seeing this?"   
  
"Copy that," Scott responds quickly, "Doesn't look like a golden world from here."   
  
Shepard barely catches Kirklands warning about rising ionization levels before Fisher's voicing his own concerns, and the shuttle is filled with barely contained fear until Alec restores order over the comm.  
  
"Keep it tight, Shuttle Two. Head for the LZ."   
  
Before Shepard can even look back at Kirkland to check on the pilot, Scott and Liam's voices join the mess, only much louder, and Shepard is forced to look back out of the window where an alien superstructure is moving into view. It's an absolute behemoth of construction, and a clear sign that they aren't alone out here. Stepping closer to the window, Shepard squints as he tries to look through the cloud that's starting to obscure the structure, flecks of rain hitting the window as they descend.   
  
"Hyperion, this is the Pathfinder. We've got evidence of an alien civilization." Alec's voice is back, delivering some semblance of order to the voices in the shuttle, but Shepard drowns them out, eyes fixed on the harsh, angular lines poking out from the ground like old bones. It feels like they shouldn't be here at all.  
  
A bolt of energy rocks the shuttle with a crash as it spikes off the metal hull, Liam cursing loudly as he's thrown off balance. The shuttle is caught in a heavy current, thick clouds of grey interspersed with lightning streaking past their window, and Shepard bites back at the shock threatening to spill from his mouth. He can see Liam and Scott braced against the window as another bolt shakes the vehicle, throwing them bodily at the side wall while Kirkland hollers something about levels spiking, as if it isn't obvious.  
  
" _Shit!_ Kirkland, pull up!" Shepard yells across the shuttle, and Kirkland barely gets a response in before a shriek rips through them, the shuttle door torn right from its casing, and Liam gets yanked out with a scream. Shepard's stomach lurches as the rushing air hits his suit, rain pelting his visor so hard he can't see properly until he makes out Scott's hand reaching for Liam. A bright flash stuns everyone as a bolt hits a canister, sparking it into flames and sending it rocketing out past Liam, knocking his grip and hurling Scott out of the shuttle with the force of the explosion.   
  
Shepard's train of thought comes screeching to a halt. His hand lets go, fingers slipping off the overhead beam as he jumps, and all he sees is the raging sky around him as he's left in freefall once more.


	8. Breathless

Shepard wants to _scream_ , but he can't. His fingers curl uselessly around thin air, rushing between the gaps in his fingers when they unfurl and splay out, as if that's going to slow him down. He can't breathe, lungs burning against every little attempt. His heart is thumping in his throat, vision blurring, barely able to make out any shape at all as he hurtles through the sky. He doesn't even know how he's going to land.  
  
_Why the fuck did he jump?_  
  
"Shepard, your jump-jets are functional." SAM's voice is so jarringly calm in the midst of this storm, and Shepard twists his body over so that he's facing up, looking at where he fell from. The shuttle's left a dim trail of smoke in its wake, but nothing else. _Shit._ They had to land somewhere, Shepard just hopes Kirkland is as good a pilot as he seems to think he is.  
  
"My what-now!?" Shepard finally responds, kicking into action as he thrashes through the air, desperate to find something to slow him down. SAM doesn't respond, but Shepard is jerked upwards so hard he can't stop the scream that rips from his throat. Fear curls around him in unrelenting coldness, the same fear that had taken hold in the cryo bay when the gravity-loss hit him. His throat closes up and he grinds his teeth, biting back another scream as he lurches forward. Shepard is almost certain he's going to die. _Again_. Because that would be just his shitty luck--  
  
Shepard is twisted back upright roughly as he recovers, feet pointing down and head pointed up, the right way round. He holds out his arms as he tries to see what's holding him, legs kicking uselessly at thin air until SAM's cooling voice sounds again.  
  
"I have activated your jump-jets, Shepard. They're located in your armour, tuned to your biotic conduits. You are able to use your biotics to activate them."  
  
Shepard isn't in any position to speak, gasping for breath while he clutches around his biotics. Ignoring the pain shooting up his shoulder from the unexpected stop in mid-air, Shepard tries to focus in on the energy building over his skin. Blue is familiar and cold, sparking as Shepard stumbles to find his balance, but his fists curl around the resonant hum and he _pulls_ , as hard as he can. He can feel the current running through his armour, propelling him forward with a rush of air, and he chuckles grimly, adrenaline surging through him as the numbness from his panic begins to wear off. SAM's activation only lasts for a few moments, and Shepard's only just managed to stop feeling sick before he's dropped through the air like a ragdoll again. Except this time, he has a way of stopping, and that holds his fear at bay long enough for him to pull hard at his biotics again, staggering his freefall.  
  
Nearing the ground, Shepard blinks through the air and his feet just brush the dirt, armour absorbing most of the shock as he rolls forward roughly, momentum carrying him a ways across the rocky landing patch. Shepard just lies there, waiting as the dust settles and watching the rain slide across his visor, trying desperately to claw back some control over his breathing which is running ragged as his stomach twists and turns, nausea threatening to take over instead.  
  
"Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_."  
  
SAM isn't responding, there's no cooling sensation rushing across his neck or down his spine, no regulation settling in, no control. Just Shepard. And it terrifies him more than he'll admit. There's nothing he can do, and he knows he jumped out of that shuttle for a damn stupid reason, so once his breathing slows and stops hurting, Shepard pulls himself up into a sitting position, fiddling around to activate his omnitool.  
  
"Shuttle One, you there?" his voice is shaking, but he doesn't pay it any mind. He needs something to go on, and the comms are a good a place as any to start. Shepard waits longer than he really needs to, desperately hoping for a voice to crackle over the comm, but he only gets vague static and it sets him on edge. He all but growls as he dismisses the omnitool, left shoulder starting to hurt a little more than he could handle. Shepard stares up at the sky for a moment, trying to form a plan out of absolutely nothing, and the best idea he has is 'get up and walk', so he takes it. Scuffing his boots as he hauls himself up, he kicks a rock in barely contained frustration and watches as it settles, hovering in the air instead of falling to the ground.  
  
"Well, that's new." Shepard mutters darkly, entirely unimpressed by his situation as he turns, getting a handle on where he landed by following the tracks on the dirt. Reaching his start position, he glances skywards to catch the faintest trail of smoke, just slightly darker than the rolling clouds overhead, and he sets his sights along that same horizon.  
  
Shepard's barely been walking for five minutes before he hears a commotion arising from the lee-side of a rocky overhang, a fair distance away from his position. Squinting, he can begin to make out shapes, bipedal creatures, heavily armoured -- fully armed, _great_ \-- and he guesses there's a small squad of them, no more than six. Huffing, Shepard almost reaches for the pistol at his side as he gets into suitable cover, but a quiet, niggling thought sits at the back of his mind. He's in no position to pull the trigger on anyone, or anything, not when he doesn't have a clue what he's facing. First contact protocol back home stated 'assume hostility', but that's a rule for a galaxy that they could call home. Andromeda _isn't_ home.  
  
Shepard moves his hand away from the pistol, instead curling around the edge of his cover as he leans forward carefully, movements slow and sure while he tries to get a closer look at the alien group. Their armour looks more like bone than anything, and Shepard grimaces. They're speaking a guttural language, spitting out words that mean nothing in any language Shepard knows, and a slight feeling of trepidation hums under his skin as the reality of Andromeda sinks in.  
  
Andromeda is going to be full of alien races. Hostile? Friendly? Shepard has no way of knowing, no way of understanding. They could speak a language his translators have no database for, they might follow customs in a society so far removed from anything Shepard understands. He has absolutely no foothold, no basis for his presence here, and no lifeline to haul him out of trouble when it eventually finds him. He's the alien here, and that thought sits in his hands like a loaded gun.  
  
Taking no more chances, Shepard simply waits until they move out of his line of sight before he dares to move on. He stumbles over a gnarled root that disappears underground, catching himself on another floating rock. This world seems so far beyond any possible idea of a viable habitat that Shepard finds himself struggling to understand just how they'd manage to mark it as a golden world for humanity. He occupies himself with his thoughts long enough to make some fair ground, and he picks up a faint humming sound not too far away, highly reminiscent of his jump jets. Frowning, Shepard glances up, and before he can even see what's about to meet him, he hits the ground with a shout, shoulder flaring in agony. His mind kicks into overdrive as he shoves the weight off of him blindly, his body following basic N7 instincts with brutal efficiency, pinning the figure down before they can even react. Shepard's about to reach for his pistol when he recognizes the voice that's hollering at him from below, and his blood starts running cold.  
  
" _Shit!_ Shepard!"  
  
Scott writhes violently underneath him, and it takes a moment for Shepard to fully realize the situation he's in: Scott pinned to the ground with Shepard holding him there like some sort of criminal. He can feel his cheeks burning inside his helmet, and he's just glad Scott can't see as he jumps off, legs either side of Scott's own on the ground.  
  
"Scott! Fucking hell! Don't jump up on people like that!" Shepard says gruffly, words spilling out to cover up his embarrassment while reaching a hand out to Scott who takes it gratefully, pulling himself up.  
  
"Is this how you react to surprises!?" Scott retorts, voice pitching indignantly as he stands, picking out a rock that had gotten lodged between his gauntlets.  
  
"Sorry!" Shepard hisses, but his sincerity is lost as Scott throws the rock at Shepard's boots with a scowl better suited to a five year old who's just been told Christmas is cancelled. Shepard can't help his laugh, sharp and quiet and _completely ridiculous_ in the mess of a situation they find themselves in.  
  
"That was the fastest disarm and disable I've ever seen." Liam's voice joins their conversation, snickering as he approaches them. Scott grunts an unintelligible reply from next to Shepard, and the hilarity of the moment clearly isn't lost on Liam.  
  
"Shut _up_." Scott groans, shoving Shepard roughly as he walks past him to Liam. Shepard winces as Scott hits his bad shoulder, and the noise makes the younger man stop in his tracks, turning to look at him. There's no mistaking the concern in his bright blue eyes. Shepard meets his gaze for a moment, and he allows himself the smallest of smiles at Scott's worry before he shakes his head.  
  
"Bit of a rough landing." Shepard waves him off, holding his left arm close to his body as he walks over to Liam, eyes already taking in their immediate surroundings. They're standing on a rise that gives them a solid vantage point across the alien territory, through the valleys and craggy rocks looming up into mountains that aren't even on solid ground. Shepard's already seen a few temporary structures along these valleys, all built in the same fashion, obviously belonging to the same group, but he knows nothing else beyond that. If he has to guess, they're not the only visitors here.  
  
That worries him.  
  
"Comms are out, but we saw a flare go up on our twelve. Feels like a destination." Liam fills Shepard in, and the lack of information only serves to make Shepard's worry grow bigger, sitting uncomfortably in his chest. He stays silent for a moment, feeling both Scott and Liam's eyes on him, and tries to plot the best course to safety.  
  
"Alright. I saw a bunch of armed and armoured aliens on the way here, heading off on our twelve now. Good money says they saw that flare too." Shepard glances back the way he came, "But we can't afford to rush in. We're barely armed."  
  
Liam's shoulders fall slack as he listens, helmet obscuring most of his expression from Shepard, but Shepard knows better -- or he should -- and Liam's content to follow, for now. Scott just looks lost, eyes constantly flickering back to his silent omnitool in between their brief exchanges, and Shepard knows he's got something of a task on his hands.  
  
"Something's scrambled our shuttles, and this storm is culprit number one. Can't find a way out unless we punch a hole through, so priority goes to any information we can dig up here." Shepard rolls out a plan, slipping easily back behind his Commander mask, even if it doesn't quite mean the same thing here. It's good enough to start on, and both Liam and Scott look grateful to have a direction. Shepard manages a reassuring smile, even if they can't see it through his helmet, it's mostly for himself.  
  
"What about that flare?" Liam follows Shepard's line of sight down the valley, where the alien structures sit, looking horribly out of place compared to the behemoth of tech they saw from the shuttle. Scott shifts nervously, eyes on Shepard as he waits for a response.  
  
"We'll get there, but like I said, we're at a disadvantage. Look, those temporary structures, definitely recent, no way they've been here long. Prefabs are prefabs, no matter where you are. We scour them en route, pick up any data we find and keep going." Shepard is firm in his command, and he turns to start walking, "Keep your eyes peeled for any more flares. Anything else goes up, that moves to priority one."  
  
Liam whistles lowly as Shepard moves out of earshot, glancing to Scott beside him, who remains firmly fixated on the retreating back of the N7.  
  
"He's good, eh?" Liam comments lightly, bouncing forward with an eagerness to his step. He half-turns, throwing an expectant glance back to Scott who remains standing there with a contemplative look.  
  
"Oh, he's better than good." Scott says absently, tearing his eyes off Shepard once he realises what he's just said. Liam's just looking at him with a raised eyebrow and vaguely concerned expression through his visor, and then Scott realises the familiar heat crawling up his neck and onto his cheeks.  
  
"What?" Liam scoffs, and Scott just shoves him forward, wanting to beat a hasty escape from his ridiculous words.  
  
"Oh- ah, nothing-- Look, he's way ahead, come on!" Scott breaks into a jog after Shepard, leaving Liam to stare after him with another laugh before he picks up the pace and follows.


	9. Alien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't get to update yesterday as I ran out of steam on Hab7, but hopefully, this makes up for it. I'm trying to avoid following the narrative we see in the game, given that it's Shepard's perspective, so if you feel like there's sections missing, that may be why! Thank you all so much for leaving your comments and kudos, I can barely believe this thing even has 800 hits, let alone people taking the time to leave their words too. Thank you, I appreciate it wholeheartedly, and I really hope me and Shepard can give you a good story!

Shepard holds his arm closer, his shoulder burning with a consistent pain now. He can hear snippets of Liam and Scott's conversation behind him, but the words are numbed by the pain shooting up his neck every time he slips across loose ground or skirts close to a rocky overhang, eyes sharp and waiting to pin down the aliens he'd seen before. There's no clear sign of them, though, not outside of slightly faded footprints in a shape Shepard can't really make out.

"Shepard, you're injured." Scott's voice reaches Shepard, causing a falter in his step as he half-turns to glance over his shoulder. Both Liam and Scott are looking at him the same way, the same concern written on both expressions, and Shepard feels he's going to have a disagreement on his hands if he tries to brush them off again. He does anyway.

"Trust me, I've had worse." Shepard says to them, and he knows he's not lying. He's crawled onto an extraction shuttle with a broken leg and concussion before now, not to mention the countless other times where his shields have failed and left him taking bullets. Hell, he's been buried under rubble from half the Presidium and managed to claw his way out. So far, the only thing that's managed to slow him down is dying. Shepard doesn't dwell on that.

"What's the worst?" Liam challenges, and Shepard finds himself smiling at the man's take-no-shit attitude. A commendable one, and something Shepard feels they're going to need somewhere down the line.

"What, you want a story?" Shepard retorts, turning to look where he's going, picking his way across rocky ground where lightning threatens the mountaintops every so often with a low rumble.

"Hey, it'll pass the time." Liam counters easily, following Shepard's path, Scott lingering behind.

"Are we _really_ asking Shepard for storytime? Like, is that actually happening? Right now?" Scott's weary protest just makes Liam more determined, and Shepard's quiet laughter is a welcome sound. He muses idly on the things he could tell them, walking ahead carefully until the ground shudders violently beneath his feet. He stops dead, his attention on the path ahead, stopping the men behind him as they watch lightning bolts strike the ground, splitting rock and scattering across the field. It's a static build-up, but it's carrying a current that could do some damage if it gets through their shields. Not too risky if they move quickly, Shepard supposes, eyeing up the distance towards the caverns on the other side of the exposed outcrop.

"Well, shit." Liam huffs next to Shepard, hands sitting on his hips as he surveys the field with a less experienced eye, only focused on getting to the other side. Scott kicks a small stone into the field, and the three of them watch as it gets shredded across the landscape by another small crack of lightning.

"That _might_ hurt a little." Scott mumbles weakly, sounding less and less confident by the minute, and Shepard spares him a glance. Scott's obviously worried, hands curling uselessly into fists and unfurling at his sides over and over, and Shepard can't blame him. Sara's in a coma on the Hyperion, he's completely cut off from Alec, and he's groundside on a planet meant to be their home where all they can see is reasons to _leave_. Andromeda's looking more and more like a mistake with every stumbling step they manage to make. Scott's own worry manifests into a gnawing feeling in Shepard's gut; he needs to get them out of here, but then Scott looks at him and his resolve is shattered. _I'll fix it_ , he wants to say, but he can't. He turns back to the field, instead focusing his attention on their path across: a problem he _can_ do something about.

"Our shields will hold. Just keep moving, use your jump jets for momentum," Shepard feels the familiar crackle of his biotics simmering over him when he steps forward, boots grating over loose rock, "And for the love of God, _don't_ leave the ground, unless you want your first mission report to be: 'Didn't listen, got fried.' Yeah?"   
  
"Yes, sir."

"I'm not your CO, Kosta." Shepard snickers, leaving Liam in the dust as he kicks himself forward with a pull at his biotics, the blue closing around him in effortless motion as he blinks through the energy field.

"Thank fuck for small mercies." Scott mutters, almost under his breath, side-eyeing Liam with an expression somewhere between exasperation and embarrassment. Liam just snorts, eyes twinkling with amusement, a laugh escaping him again as he pushes forward to get enough momentum for his jump jets.

Shepard's already ahead, pulling himself through the field with fluid biotics. He relishes the familiar crackle and hum of energy over his skin, the smell of ozone in the air, and he's starting to understand what SAM had told him about the conduits in his armour. He can almost feel the way they amplify every tiny spark, energy surging through him with an ease Shepard doesn't associate with his biotics. It's definitely helping to take the edge off the pain in his shoulder, where his movement is jarring it with every pull. Sparing no backwards glances, Shepard reaches clear ground with a final biotic charge, air rushing over his hardsuit with a familiar ringing echo.

The moment his boots hit the ground, a gunshot cracks the air and Shepard ducks forward, a hand on the Carnifex at his side. He unholsters it slowly--

" _Shit!_ " Liam's cursing distracts Shepard, and he looks behind to see Liam rushing through the last of the current spikes, tendrils of smoke closing around his right arm.

"Did it hit you?" Shepard speaks lowly, eyes fixed on Liam's arm plate where a small burn mark scars the white finish.

"Heard the shot, rushed, got fried." Liam hisses, dropping into cover by Shepard as he investigates the damage. Nothing too serious, Shepard guesses there might be a surface wound left over later, but there's nothing slowing Kosta down, and that's good enough for him. Scott joins them a moment later, his own biotics crackling over his armour as he drops into cover beside Liam, sparing a look at the scorch mark.

"Didn't listen, got fried?" It's Scott's turn to crack the joke, and Liam just smiles wrily, shaking his head as he shoves Scott's shoulder in retaliation. Shepard lets the conversation play idly in the background, his eyes set on the valley ahead. A thick column of smoke is rising from a wreck of a shuttle, and Shepard grinds his teeth together to stop the string of curses he wants to hurl out.

"Crashed shuttle, dead ahead." Shepard cuts through the conversation behind him, both Liam and Scott scrabble to look over their cover, and before Shepard has a chance to say anything, Liam's stumbling ahead, breaking into a run. Scott groans, biotics pulsing over him as he readies himself for a charge to catch Liam, but Shepard beats him to it, leaving behind the crackle of ozone and eezo.

"Take it _slow_. We don't know what's down there--" Shepard blocks Liam's path, dust spiraling up around them as Shepard breaks his charge, feet almost digging into the dirt.

"Crashed shuttle, our people. No question about it." Liam skirts around Shepard without flinching, eyes set dead ahead on the burning wreck. Scott appears a moment later, his own biotics sparking across the dirt in his wake as he reaches out an arm to stop Liam.

"Look!" Scott hisses, pulling Liam into cover just as Shepard drops forward behind an outcrop, slightly ahead of the other two. Shepard's already seen what Scott's trying to warn them about: another group of aliens, the same as the ones Shepard saw earlier, moving in on the shuttle. Shit. Shepard hisses in pain as his shoulder collides with the rock, moving along it until he can peer around it, lining up a biotic charge.

"Shepard, wait!" Scott's voice jerks Shepard back, "This is a first contact situation, we can't use--"

Another gunshot splits the sound of Scott's voice in two, and Shepard just looks at him.

"They're using force. That's your people down there."

Scott almost winces, looking around as if he could find any other way through this hellscape, but his eyes only come back to Shepard with a certainty that's always been there. He just nods, slowly, fists curling around his own biotics in a wordless gesture of confidence that Shepard knows well. Shepard's relief is palpable, his steely gaze turning into something softer, something that Scott remembers, but he isn't given a chance to dwell on it as Shepard turns back to the wreck in the valley.

"They've got someone. Can't tell who. Hostiles are armed and using it to their advantage. Close quarters, so check your fire." Shepard murmurs lowly, his biotics enveloping him as he talks, a display that reminds Scott just how much force is powering that energy. He's seen Shepard level a battleground before, back when they were stationed out of Arcturus, but there's an uneasy feeling sitting in his gut at the prospect of taking on hostile aliens. All he can do is trust Shepard.

And Scott knows that he does trust him, without a doubt.

"On your lead, Shepard." Scott says, a new confidence to his voice that Shepard's glad to hear.

Shepard takes the cue, ripping through the air with a burning rush, the force pressing down on his chest when he moves his arm to push his biotic field forward, and he slams into one of the aliens with groundbreaking force, tearing a wretched, guttural shout from it as it hits the ground with a crack. He doesn't stop to look behind, already feeling the tremor of Scott's biotics somewhere nearby, and he hears Liam's heated shouts amongst gunfire, driving the hostiles back. Turning sharply, Shepard spots an alien looming over the figure on the ground -- Fisher, thank fuck -- and wastes no time in pulling a shockwave from the ground, ripples cascading into the alien with enough force to belt it away, giving Fisher some breathing space. He's injured, Shepard notes the way his leg sits out of place, and he sprints over to the man after checking Liam and Scott's progress -- they were done, but Scott has his scanner roving over one of the alien bodies, and Shepard leaves them to it.

"It's Fisher, right?" Shepard kneels down, hissing as he hits his shoulder on the shuttle wall. Fisher manages a nod, eyes sliding shut as he leans his head back, mouth twisting into a pained grimace.

"What happened to the others?" Shepard gets straight to the point, trying to work out just how he's going to get Fisher to safety with what looks like a broken leg. The terrain is unforgiving at best, downright treacherous at worst; Fisher would no doubt injure himself more before they could get him to a safe zone.

"Went to search ahead. We saw the flare go up, think it's from the others." Fisher winces through his words, and Shepard can barely hear him over Scott and Liam's approaching footsteps. Shepard looks up at them, silently debating on where to go from here.

"Can you move?" Scott asks, kneeling down on Fisher's other side. Liam busies himself with collecting their scattered supplies from the shuttle; it's mostly ammo and spare firepower, but Liam decides they could do with some heavier backup, now there's a confirmed hostile presence.

"No, my leg--" Fisher groans, shifting his weight, and Scott notices the way his leg doesn't move properly with the rest of him. Grimacing, his glance turns to Shepard, who shakes his head.

"You need to find the others, just-- I'll be fine, got my rifle." Fisher interrupts their silent conversation, pulling his rifle closer to him, finger already on the trigger. Shepard hesitates, but he knows he can't take Fisher, not without compromising everyone's safety. Scott looks far less certain.

"Alright. We'll be as quick as we can." Shepard stands up slowly, surveying the debris across the field, along with the alien bodies.

"Did you find anything?" Shepard directs the question to Scott, watching Liam pick up an Avenger rifle with a satisfied hum as he returns to the group.

"No. SAM's down, I can't pull any data. It's organic, DNA based, but their genetic structure is all over the map. Armour reads as some kind of bone," Scott relays the information, eyeing up one of the dead aliens on the ground nearby, "And they're definitely not friendly."

"No shit." Liam adds, not so helpfully. Shepard sighs, turning his attention to Fisher again.

"You catch the way the others went?" he asks, noticing the two main pathways out of this clearing.

"Down into the valley." Fisher gestures weakly to the left fork, and Shepard nods, turning back to his group.

"Alright, we're against time now. Keep moving, see where these guys got to, rendezvous at the flare navpoint."

* * *

The walk through the valley is uneventful, but there's a growing tension in the air that sets all three of them on edge. Conversation is stilted, turning eventually into total silence as they pick their way down another ledge. They'd already found what looked like a dig site through one of the alien structures in the valley. The place was reminiscent of a research lab, broken down equipment strewn across the floor, wires and generators stuffed in every crevice, and as Liam had put it: the site looked like it had been utterly wrecked by a tornado. The room was littered with dead bodies of the aliens they'd seen, alongside a new species entirely, which Scott had dubbed 'killer robots' when an activated bot tried to attack. After scanning it, Scott managed to decipher that those bots were actually _centuries_ old. That had definitely caught Shepard's interest. Established, developed synthetic life in Andromeda? They had to be careful. The last thing he wants to deal with is a geth situation.

Shepard can't shake the thought that those locked doors might have led to something far beyond their limited concepts of Andromeda; they obviously held enough interest to warrant brutal attacks from these aliens, Scott had figured. It carries a possibility that rings a sour note somewhere in the back of Shepard's mind, a possibility that Andromeda is already far out of their reach.

"Let's pick up the pace." Shepard mumurs, his long strides carrying him easily over the terrain, and both Liam and Scott follow his lead. He almost breaks into a run when the air turns charged again, not wanting to end up in another brutal energy field. Instinct is telling him to run, to head further into the valley and find cover, and his chest is suddenly burning with his harsh breaths, gulping in as much filtered air as his suit allows. He doesn't know when he stopped walking, only that his boots are now hitting the ground at full pelt, his shoulder on fire with the excessive movement as his arms pull him ever forward in time with his sprint. Shepard can feel the regularity of the two sets of footsteps behind him, just about keeping up, and all three of them find their sights settling on another figure in the near distance. Arms up in surrender, gun at his feet, the hostile aliens moving in on him with dangerous steps. Shepard growls, patience at a limit beyond breaking point, and he knows he should've seen what was coming.

" _Shit!_ It's Kirkland! They're going to--" He just about hears Scott shouting behind him, but the unmistakable sound of a gunshot is followed by Kirkland sinking to the ground with a cry. He sees a trail of biotic blue as Scott charges past him, and without thinking, Shepard follows, slamming bodily into another alien, a hand wrapping around the column of its throat as he pulls with a guttural roar. He reaves whatever life is left in the alien, feeling the last of its breath being pulled from its body, but he makes sure to leave it with just enough left to know death when it hits.

"Scott, singularity!" Shepard hollers, his biotics curling around his frame like a second skin, painting his eyes blue for a brief moment when Scott looks at him, throwing a singularity without hesitation. Shepard rips the last of his reave, turning it into a fully charged throw that sends the alien slamming into Scott's singularity with a spectacular explosion that rocks the ground with a tremor. Liam is already hovering over Kirkland's body before Scott joins him, scanner trained on Kirkland with thin hope. Shepard doesn't bother to go that far: he knows Kirkland is dead, and those aliens shot him in cold blood even as he surrendered. It feeds a hot, angry spark nestled in his chest, breaths coming in short, sharp bursts as his biotics simmer down.

"No vitals. Just shot him in cold blood." Scott voices Shepard's thoughts grimly, breathing hard as he comes down from his own biotic rush.

"He was trying to surrender. Why kill him?" Liam huffs angrily, shifting his weight from foot to foot, agitated.

"Would we treat them any different if they showed up on Earth, armed to the teeth?" Scott's question hits home harder than Shepard would like to admit. He swallows around his blunt reply, choosing to stay silent as he watches the conversation. Scott's right. Shepard would've done exactly the same thing.

"Peace isn't going to be an option here." Scott sighs heavily, dropping his arm as the scanner flickers out. He rises slowly, half-turning to Shepard as if he expects another plan, but Shepard just shakes his head, scuffing his boot on the ground as he tries to clear up his hectic thoughts.

"We need to find your dad and Cora." Shepard says, no room for doubt in his words. This is getting too dangerous, cutting too close to the bone, threatening an already fragile presence in the galaxy. Shepard can't condone trying to push beyond what they already have. Scott agrees, and Liam's close behind as they push off.

"We'll come back for his body, once we find the others." Shepard confirms the unspoken question, and a morose silence falls over them as they head for the flare navpoint.


	10. Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, two updates in one day, to make up for yesterday whoops. A short update, but necessary, and I hope the formatting doesn't murder you because I can't see anything but lines of code now. /mistake
> 
> In case it isn't obvious, italicized + indented = flashback. Normal text is present.

Alec Ryder is dead.  
  
Shepard turns the words over and over, and they hold no meaning to him, take no shape that he understands. Inside the space of an hour, humanity's fate in Andromeda has been shattered into ugly shards of fear, working their way deep into hearts and minds. Shepard knows it too well, and he knows that Andromeda's only hope is lying on the metal bed that he's sitting beside, back against the cool surface.  
  
Scott Ryder, Human Pathfinder.  
  
Shepard swallows, heart pounding in his chest as he fiddles with a clasp on his armour, trying to give his injured shoulder some space. His thoughts are scattered around the room in callous disarray, and he keeps playing everything, over and over.

 

> _["Watch my back! SAM, run decryption!" It's Alec's voice, a calm admist the storm of the alien base. Cora flings her biotics with lethal precision, Liam tosses omni-grenades down a chokepoint, Scott's at Shepard's back, keeping the central platform clear with a steady stream of biotic power. Alec works as fast as SAM can go, processing and deciphering and decrypting with relentless tenacity, until Alec vaults over the console with a yell in Scott's direction.]_

  
  
Shepard exhales sharply, head pounding with over-exertion of his biotics. He needs to rest, or eat, anything to cool down and get his energy back up. The cold metal at his back is helping, but he knows he won't find any rest until Scott wakes up. Until he knows Scott is okay.

 

> _["Put your back into it!" Alec and Scott are at the door, forcing it open with shaking shoulders. They clear the emergency threshold, and the door activates fully, sliding open the rest of the way. Shepard turns to watch, keenly aware of movement on his peripheral. He only sees the backs of them as they disappear into the opening while he keeps watch, Liam and Cora moving out to secure the post, Cora radioing in to the shuttle crew. Full lockdown. Shepard is satisfied with that, and he lets his biotics cool down for a minute. He ignores the noises that emanate from the chamber, finding no threat in them.]_

  
  
Groaning, Shepard digs his fingers under the plates of his loosened armour, tugging at the gauntlet and shoulder piece on his left arm until it comes free, clattering to the floor. The sound is jarring, hurts at the back of his teeth. He grimaces, pressing his fingers into the joint of his shoulder, and he's glad nobody hears the way he whimpers at the pressure.

 

> _[Shepard's head snaps up as he sees the thick clouds overhead dissipate across the atmosphere. The rain stops, and he blinks as the first heavy rays of light hit him. Looking around, he finds Alec and Scott doing the same thing as they emerge, with matching expressions of wonder. This. This blue sky and sunshine, this little sign of hope, this is what Shepard expects from a golden world. And still, the thought refuses to sit right. A rumble at his feet is the first sign something is wrong._  
>    
>  _"What--" Shepard turns, the rumble growing stronger until it's shaking him off balance, and all he sees is a white cloud billowing out from the doors they'd just opened. Shepard barely manages to open his mouth, a warning on his lips, before it hits them.]_

  
  
Screwing his eyes shut, Shepard grits his teeth as his fingers work the muscle, trying to place the injury. He remembers the way it tore as he fell through the sky, and his fingers find the pressure point, coaxing another pained whimper from him. A tear. Ligament or tendon? Shepard breathes out sharply, dropping his hand. He'd need a trained medical professional for this one, not his roughshod field-medic capabilities. He opens his eyes again, the room covered in a blue tinge like a snapshot.

 

> _[Shepard hits the ground. It hurts. He doesn't think about it. N7 training kicks in. Mechanical. Emotionless. His arms push his body off the ground again, feet digging in. Standing. He can't see._  
>    
>  _"Scott?" is the first quiet word out of his mouth.]_

  
  
They're in SAM node, and Shepard finds a strange comfort in the AI's blue light, soft and unfaltering. SAM brought him back. Shepard finds the concept difficult to understand, but he knows how grateful he is that Scott's still breathing.

 

> _["Shepard!" Alec's voice. Again. Shepard wishes he could hear something else. A light flickers in the fog around them, and he focuses on Alec's shape, stumbling through. He's injured. Shepard takes a few steps towards him, but Alec gestures past him and Shepard turns to look. It's Scott. It takes every bit of willpower in him not to shout his name, Alec too close for comfort. Fear rears its ugly head, teeth sinking into flesh and bone as Shepard rushes over._  
>    
>  _"We need an emergency extraction!" Alec is shouting into his omnitool, a lack of composure that Shepard's never seen on the man before. It only serves to make his fear gnaw deeper._  
>    
>  _"Repeat: we need an emergency extraction, now!"_  
>    
>  _They draw close enough to see Scott, on his hands and knees, looking up at them. Shepard's blood runs cold. Scott's helmet is broken. He can't breathe._  
>    
>  _"They're spinning up the shuttle! ETA is three-- maybe four minutes!" Cora's voice is disjointed over the comm, but Shepard can't pay attention, eyes fixed on Scott's shaking frame._  
>    
>  _"We don't have that long." Alec sounds resigned, quiet, the panic gone in an instant Shepard can't place. Scott gasps, and Shepard's hands fly to his own helmet, fingers reaching for the clasps before Alec reaches out to stop him, roughly. There's a strange look in his eye, one Shepard has no name for, but he knows that it strikes fear right into him like nothing else ever could._  
>    
>  _"He's going to need you."_  
>    
>  _**He doesn't need me** , is all Shepard wants to say.]_

  
  
Shepard needs Scott to wake up. That's all he needs. Just... wake up.

 

> _[Alec's intent is obvious, and Shepard feels his heart sink in a way he didn't expect. Not for Alec Ryder, of all people. He can only watch as Alec pulls Scott's broken helmet off, replacing it with his own, gentle as his hands find Scott's shoulders._  
>    
>  _"Breathe." It's almost a command, coming from Alec. Dark eyes settle on Shepard again, and this time, they're asking, not telling. Help him. Shepard drops to his knees, trying to catch Scott's attention, but his eyes are heavy, breathing slowing, and no words are bringing him back._  
>    
>  _"Initiating transfer."]_

  
It's the first time Shepard has ever felt so afraid on a mission. Even now, the fear is there, curling at the edges of his vision, pulling at his illusion of safety. Shepard doesn't care if Andromeda is a bust, but he's not losing Scott because of it.  
  
Being alone in Andromeda isn't a future Shepard wants to think about.

 

> _[He's dead. He's dead. He's **dead** , and Shepard's voice is red raw as he shouts for the shuttle he hears overhead. There's no tears, but his eyes sting when he looks at Scott on the ground, eyes closed in a cruel mockery of rest, and Shepard can't find his pulse. His chest doesn't rise with breath. He's still and quiet and dead._  
>    
>  _Boots hit the ground, but Shepard can't look. Doesn't look. His eyes are fixed on Scott, and it's not until Cora places herself in his line of sight that he realises who's there. A flutter of relief is quickly swallowed by the gravity of the situation when he sees Cora's expression through the holo of her omnitool. Fear._  
>    
>  _"Move! He's going into cardiac arrest!"_  
>    
>  _Shepard thinks he's heard her wrong, but his eyes catch the sudden stutter as Scott's chest rises, devoid of oxygen. He grits his teeth and catches the faintest of blue as Scott opens his eyes for a second._  
>    
>  _"Scott, we're getting you out of here." Shepard manages to speak with reasonable clarity, voice low, and meant only for Scott. He gasps, not enough air, but his hand scrabbles for purchase around Shepard's wrist, before his eyes close again._  
>    
>  _Liam joins the frame, and Shepard spares him a glance. There's a quiet, knowing look in his eyes as he watches Shepard, and Shepard thinks he understands it. It's enough to know Liam isn't going to say anything.]_

  
  
Shepard lets his eyes drift close, heavy with exhaustion. He stifles a yawn, stretching out his legs in front of him, trying to unwind the tension coiling in his body. He tries to distract himself, but everything keeps playing the same tune, over and over, until he can only listen.

 

> [ _"Pulse is weakening. Tell the Ark to prep med-bay!" Dr Carlyle this time, a more welcome voice, one that could fix this. Shepard is willing to listen. Scott opens his eyes again, and Shepard is sitting beside him as the shuttle carries them to safety._  
>    
>  _"C'mon, Ryder." The doctor urges, but Scott's eyes drift close quicker this time. Shepard hides his shaking hands._  
>    
>  _The next time he opens his eyes, they're running him through the Hyperion with frantic orders being thrown. Shepard doesn't take notice of half of them. Dr T'Perro joins them, and Shepard feels another wave of relief, a slight spark of hope. He holds it close._  
>    
>  _"It's a seizure! His brain can't handle the connection--" Lexi can see what's happening, but the panic in her voice doesn't help the frantic atmosphere, "Get him to SAM node!"_  
>    
>  _Shepard doesn't care that his shoulder is flaring up beyond a bearable point, pushing the gurney with Liam. He doesn't care that his lungs are burning with overexertion, or that his legs feel like lead. He focuses on Scott, and it's enough._  
>    
>  _They reach SAM node, wheeling him in as SAM suggests a hardwire connection. The thought would've made Shepard stop in his tracks, had it been anyone else. Scott doesn't make a sound, but he reaches up, slowly, and Shepard is there. Scott's fingers curl around the familiar curve of Shepard's hand, and his eyes close for the final time.]_

  
  
Shepard thinks he's hallucinating when he hears a groan, the scrape of fabric over metal behind him, and he jolts upright, biting back a shout as his shoulder burns. Shepard gets to his feet quickly, every kind of thought crossing his mind in a moment of irrationality before his eyes find that same old blue staring right back at him.  
  
He's awake.


	11. Pathfinder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna admit that I didn't really get Scott's reaction to hearing about Alec, so I took a few creative liberties here. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! We'll be picking up story momentum from now on, Hab 7 just needed a lot of exploring.

"What happened?" Scott doesn't waste time. Shepard is still somewhere between the last of his memories and this room. He doesn't know where to start, because everything that happened on that planet only turned into endings. Scott seems to receive an answer from nowhere, and his lips pull into a pained grimace when he sits up. Shepard takes a cautious few steps closer, hands curled into useless fists at his sides.  
  
"Did the rest of the team make it?" Scott looks genuinely afraid for a brief moment, finally meeting Shepard's gaze with a tentative one of his own. Shepard doesn't know what to say, his mouth half-open on words that he doesn't want Scott to hear.   
  
"Let me get the others." Shepard manages to get out, calling up his omnitool as Scott shifts forward on the metal bed, legs hanging off the end while the rest of his body slowly regains feeling. _You fucking died_ , Shepard wants to say, but it seems too callous coming from him, of all people.   
  
"No-- wait." Scott gestures for Shepard to dismiss the omnitool, but Shepard only spares him a curious glance, eyebrow raised as he waits for an explanation.  
  
"Just... I want to talk to you." Scott's barely coherent, words still slurred with sleep, and Shepard deliberates for a moment before letting it slide. SAM could tell them if Scott was heading downhill. Shepard drops his arm, the holo flickering away as he keeps a careful eye on Scott, still quiet, still uncertain. Scott notices, brow knitting in confusion as he regards Shepard.  
  
"You- you're so _quiet_."   
  
Shepard wishes Scott didn't know him so well. It'd make this a whole lot easier. But there's no getting away from where they came from; quiet nights on Arcturus Station had never been the same after they met. Shepard's always been the voice of the moment, needing to be heard for whatever reason, and Scott ran along the same lines. They shared a carefully constructed orbit, built together by hands that were used to hurting more than helping. It might have been chaotic in its design, stolen in quiet moments when nobody else was looking, or shouted across the hangar bay during a duty-shift, but it was theirs, and it had lasted this long.   
  
"I don't know where to start." Shepard admits with a half-hearted shrug.   
  
"The beginning usually works." Scott retorts, wryly. He's smiling, small and quiet, when Shepard looks at him wearily.   
  
"Funny, Scott."   
  
"I know. So come on, where are you at?"   
  
Scott isn't letting this one slide, so Shepard relents, his defenses crashing. It irritates him how easily he allows it, but he walls it off and shifts his weight, limbs aching from a bad night's rest.   
  
"You _died_." Shepard starts, bluntly, "And yes, I know how hypocritical this is."   
  
Scott just stares at him blankly for a moment, blue eyes giving nothing away. Shepard wants to look away, feeling a quiet heat crawling up his neck and staining the tips of his ears red as the notion sinks in. He's being ridiculous. He knows he is, but at this point he's convinced he's left his rationality behind in the Milky Way, and it's entirely the fault of the man sitting in front of him. The man who now has a smirk on his face, eyes lighting up with a certain kind of wickedness that Shepard knows far too well.   
  
"So..." Scott draws out the word, smirk giving rise to a full-blown grin when Shepard's expression turns wildly exasperated, but amusement ghosts his lips in the shape of a well-worn smile.  
  
"No, Scott, don't--"  
  
"Guess that makes us even, huh?"   
  
"You prick."   
  
Their shared laughter is quiet, uncertain, like the first few stumbling steps into something bigger than anything they really understood. It's more than enough to go on, though. It's a good beginning.   
  
"I'm sorry, did I ruin your moment?"  
  
"It wasn't a _moment_."   
  
"Uh-huh. Cade, come on. You've been acting weird since waking up. Naps are clearly dangerous, I know, but this? This is something else."  
  
Despite the sarcasm, Scott's right. Shepard knows he is, but there's no real explanation, nothing that he can give without sounding completely outrageous. Scott's got enough to deal with, the part that Shepard hasn't told him yet, and the last thing Scott needs is Shepard's own feelings getting in his way. It's a selfish thing for Shepard to want the kind of friendship they had, the way it was on Arcturus, knowing full well that Scott's going to have more than just the world on his shoulders very soon.  
  
"Dying has a way of reminding you what you forgot to say." Shepard finally decides on an answer, but it's more of a vague diversion than anything else. Regardless, a flash of understanding shows in Scott's eyes before he drops his gaze to the floor.   
  
"Did you forget, or did you just not want to say it?" Scott murmurs, fingers brushing idly over the fabric at his knees, trying to distract himself from the gravity of their situation. He's pushing the boundaries of their illusion, and he knows it.   
  
"You tell me." Shepard's reply is simple, but it hits home far harder than Scott is prepared for. He sucks in a breath, feeling his chest expand and fall as he breathes out slowly, dragging the moment out while he scrambles for an answer. He remembers a hand in his own as they wheeled him into SAM node, but the shapes are unclear, the voices are disembodied and jarring, and he can't think of anything outside the way he'd reached for the one thing he knew, and he was standing right in front of him.   
  
Silence stretches out, almost uncomfortable, chafing at their skin when they try to move.   
  
"I'm going to call the others, okay?" Shepard sighs, moving away when Scott shows no sign of further answers. Scott just nods lamely, words stuck in the back of his throat that he can't say just yet. He watches as Shepard turns away, calling up his omnitool. They had _time_ , far more than they had back home. The thought is comforting, sending warmth to every edge of Scott's body, until he feels like he can pull it around him, content to exist in his own little world for now.  
  
Shepard opens up the comm to Lexi, who responds almost immediately. He relays the information, and receives a quiet confirmation that the others are on their way before the comm goes dead again. There's not much else to say before the others get here, so Shepard turns his attention to picking up the pieces of armour he'd dropped earlier, the pain in his shoulder slowly growing louder in the way it flares up on every movement. He'd get Lexi to look at it, once they were done here.  
  
"How long was I out?" Scott's voice sounds again, and Shepard looks up at him after he collects his armour.   
  
"About eight hours." Shepard supposes, though he didn't really keep track of time. It was a definite night-cycle, at the very least. He remembers Lexi trying to convince him to rest, but Shepard was being his usual stubborn self. That particular conversation ended with a frustrated doctor and an irritated Shepard before he apologized when Lexi called him again, an hour later, asking for an update on Scott.   
  
"So... you've been here all night?" Scott's going somewhere with this, and Shepard can see it straightaway. Sighing, he stands upright fully, examining the pieces of armour in his hands nonchalantly, if only to look elsewhere.  
  
"Yes. We didn't want you to be alone when you woke up."  
  
"Why?"   
  
Shepard hesitates, his heart already hammering at the prospect of telling Scott what happened to Alec. He swallows, mouth dry as a bone, and before he gets any word out, the door opens behind him, carrying a slew of familiar voices with it. Cora and Lexi are quick to reach Scott's bedside, Lexi already with her scanner out. Shepard resists the urge to roll his eyes and instead leaves them to it, lingering at the edge of the room, leaning his hip against the rail encircling the SAM node.  
  
"Look here.... and here--" Lexi directs Scott through the motions, assessing his neural function like it's an everyday, mundane task. To her, it probably is. To Shepard, the idea makes his skin crawl. He chose a life as a soldier, as N7; death isn't something he's ever going to be afraid of, but when it comes to someone he cares about? There's no training for that. No warning. Nothing he can do.  
  
That's the worst part.  
  
He can only watch when Scott's gaze slips past the doctor, landing upon a familiar helmet in red and black, embossed with the unmistakable N7 symbol. His eyes widen slightly, lips parting on the question nobody in the room wants hear.  
  
"My father... where...?"  
  
The silence that follows is suffocating. Nobody wants to break it. Scott looks at each of them in turn, the same burning question in his eyes, but it's only when he lands on Shepard that he speaks again.  
  
"You were there."   
  
Shepard looks at him, a shadow cast across his face. His eyes are darker now, almost angry, but most of it is regret. Regret that he didn't die instead of Alec. This whole thing had been his dream, not Shepard's. He was never meant to be here, and it seems so wrong that he's the one who's standing where Alec should be instead.  
  
"You were _there_!" Scott's voice pitches with unmistakable grief, and Shepard visibly flinches. Scott's words almost feel like an accusation, and Shepard can't blame him.   
  
"It was your life or his, and he chose you." Cora's voice cuts through the tension gathering in the room. It's softer, gentle as she tries to diffuse the situation. Scott's shoulders slump, his gaze faltering. "I'm sorry, Scott. I know this must be a blow--"  
  
"Shepard, what _happened_?" Scott isn't listening, remorse settling over him like an ill light. Shepard can feel the eyes on him, from almost everyone in the room. Lexi is the only who isn't watching, busying herself with Scott's diagnostics instead.  
  
"Your helmet broke when we fell, you couldn't breathe. I tried to give you mine. Your Dad stopped me." Shepard explains in clipped sentences, like a military report. There's no real emotion behind his words, and Scott hates it.  
  
"Why would you _listen_ to him?" Scott hisses, but his venom is fading as quickly as it had sparked up. There's a long pause as Shepard considers his next words, pushing himself off the rail to move over to the group. His own helmet swings loosely from one of his hands as he approaches, coming to a stop a few feet away from Scott.  
  
"He was N7. It's what we do." Another pause. Shepard's expression falters when Scott eyes shine dangerously in the light. "I'm sorry."   
  
Scott simply looks at Shepard then, eyes roving over his all-too familiar frame in that red and black armour, N7 slapped across his chestplate like a brutal reminder for Scott. Scott doesn't say anything else, but he manages a weak nod that Shepard takes a sign of understanding.  
  
Shepard feels a solid warmth at his right shoulder, and he takes a second to realize Liam's hand is there, a show of support. It's the last thing Shepard expects, but the gesture is more than welcome, and he nods to Liam, a silent 'thank you' in the air between them. Liam drops his hand and turns his attention back to Scott, who's looking around the room as if he's just realized where he is. He needs something else to think about, lingering on his father's death isn't what he wants to do in a room full of people.  
  
"What are we doing in SAM node?" he asks, and Lexi stops her scanning for a brief moment.  
  
"SAM is... now a part of you in a way we don't entirely understand. It played havoc with your brain." Lexi tries to explain, but her lack of understanding is clear. There's an edge of frustration to the way she picks up her scanning again, and Shepard can only assume she's trying to put the pieces together as best as she can.  
  
Of course. Alec designed SAM. He knew it's capabilities far more than anyone else here did, and Shepard is met with a dawning realization that SAM is going to become an unknown potential in a galaxy where nothing quite makes sense. They'll have to make do with what they know, but that's an issue for another time, Shepard tells himself.  
  
"SAM?" Scott turns his attention to the AI, and there's a brief pause before SAM's familiar voice hums through the room.  
  
"Your father authorized the transfer of Pathfinder authority to you."   
  
Scott is confused. His brow pulls into the familiar quirk that betrays his thoughts, and Shepard sighs, his eyes turning to Cora as she readies her own explanation. She was Alec's second. Something screwed up, somewhere.   
  
"Shouldn't that be Cora?" Scott voices the question everybody's thinking.  
  
"In theory," Cora interrupts, hands behind her back in her usual position of command, "In reality... you're the new Pathfinder, Scott."


	12. Push

Shepard barely takes any notice of half the comm chatter he's hearing over his omnitool. He knows their next destination is the Nexus, some kind of major forward station for the Initiative, but he tuned out shortly after that. He's tired, and in pain, and Lexi is fussing over his shoulder with an exasperation that reminds him starkly of Chakwas back on the Normandy, and that makes him _ache_ for home even more.  
  
"Are you alright?" Lexi's voice is more soothing than he'll admit, but he shakes his head. _No_. He's not alright. But there isn't anything anybody can do about it, so why share a problem that can't be solved? Lexi pushes, regardless.  
  
"It's helpful to talk, Shepard."  
  
"About what?" Shepard's reply is cold, warped by a quiet anger, and he regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. Lexi's features soften for a split second before she turns back to her work, strapping up his shoulder with practised hands, fingers cold to the touch.  
  
"Sorry." Shepard mumbles lamely, eyes glancing down at the floor instead. His fingers curl tightly around the metal edge of the bed he's sitting on, feet firmly planted on the floor. He doesn't need to be holding on to anything, but it's just... grounding.   
  
"It's alright. I don't expect you to be taking all of this in your stride." Lexi reassures him, and he finds a strange kind of comfort in her words. He doesn't bother to think on it too much, though, and just watches as she places the last of the kinesiology tape across his shoulder.   
  
"I don't know what people expect of me." Shepard admits, and it stings. He's used to being the Commander, used to being a Spectre, N7, rank after rank before his name ever came into question. And here, none of that matters. They don't need soldiers, they need pioneers. Explorers. Scientists. People to help them build a home, not start wars.   
  
Shepard feels so dangerously out of place, and he hates it.  
  
"Perhaps nothing, for once." Lexi sounds so confident in her suggestion, that Shepard almost believes it. "Andromeda is a new start for a lot of us, and there's no reason you shouldn't have that chance too."  
  
She's right. He just doesn't want to let go, not yet. Lexi sees the look on his face and simply spares him a kind smile, before she starts to tidy away her equipment. Shepard rolls his neck, feeling the way the tape pulls at his muscle, a slight twinge of pain as his shoulder moves, but far more bearable now.  
  
The door whirs open across the bay, and Shepard turns to look, finding Scott walking through.  
  
"You're up already?" Shepard frowns, pushing himself off the cot as he grabs his t-shirt from behind him. Scott looks surprised to see him, stopping in his tracks as he realizes who that voice belongs to.   
  
"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize Lexi was busy--" Scott pauses, eyebrow quirking as his eyes fall on Shepard's heavily strapped up shoulder, "What happened to your shoulder? I didn't think it was that bad -- we could've stopped!"   
  
Shepard rolls his eyes, pulling his shirt back on, careful not to move his shoulder too much. He doesn't mind the warmth settling in when he finds Scott halfway between staring and trying to school his expression into something more neutral.  
  
"Ligament tear, if you want to be technical. Don't worry, it wasn't holding me back." Shepard replies easily, a smirk playing at his lips when he sees the first hint of red at the tips of Scott's ears. Lexi clears her throat from across the room, and the red spreads to Scott's cheeks as he turns to her instead, expression vacant.  
  
"Scott, I need to give you the all-clear before you head out." She reminds him, her own expression schooled into a perfect mask of professionalism, but there's a twinkle to her eye that betrays her amusement. Shepard just snickers to himself, the sound just reaching Scott as Shepard passes to leave.  
  
"Hey, are you coming with us?" Scott manages to get his wits together long enough to direct a question at Shepard's retreating back. Shepard stops, half-turning to look back at Scott with a raised eyebrow, not quite understanding the question.  
  
"To the Nexus." Scott clarifies, and Shepard's expression turns to one of realization. His hand reaches up to rub nervously at his arm, debating on a reply. There's no real need for him to be there; he's not Initiative, not really, and he wonders if his presence is more cause for concern than anything else. Nobody expected Shepard to be here, himself included, and he can't help but feel he's only going to make a bad situation worse if it comes to it.   
  
"Is that a good idea?" Shepard tilts his head slightly, genuinely looking for an answer. Scott realizes he's not playing one of his twenty-question games for once, and blinks twice, surprised. Lexi directs him to sit, clearly tired of waiting for them to finish dithering around, and her scanner is filling Scott's peripheral with a familiar orange glow a few seconds later.  
  
"I don't know. I think so. You were there as much as the rest of us on Habitat Seven. Hell, you _led_ half of it. They'll want to hear from you." Scott reasons, his sentences taking the same stumbling shape as his thoughts. If Lexi's paying attention, she doesn't let it show, busying herself with a console nearby that runs Scott's diagnostics while they talk.  
  
"Maybe," Shepard sighs, folding his arms tightly across his chest, "But what about when the questions start? You know I'm not meant to be here, Scott."   
  
"I don't know, Cade. I don't know why you're here, or how. But you know as well as I do that there's no going back." Scott fixes him with a look that gets right under Shepard's skin, making him feel overexposed in the cold air of the medbay. He almost shivers.  
  
"If you want me there, I'll go." Shepard says simply, unwilling to poke at the beast that was Cerberus and the information surrounding his revival. Not this soon, anyway: he needs more time to process it, to think it over before he starts tearing it to pieces. Scott wants answers for why he's Pathfinder, Shepard wants answers for why he's even _in_ Andromeda. Somehow, Shepard feels like those two tracks are going to collide somewhere down the line, and the wreck is going to be dangerous.  
  
"Yeah. I could use your help." Scott admits, sounding a little less confident, and Shepard is starkly reminded of the man he met on Arcturus all those years ago. Fresh out of training, thrown headfirst into a situation he didn't expect, and taking all of the flak for it. If fate exists, it has an _awful_ sense of humour.  
  
"First time you've ever asked." Shepard retorts drily, but there's a ghost of a smile there. It's enough for Scott to hope.   
  
"Two years is a long time to go without your best friend." Scott says, almost careful in the way he places his words, eyes never leaving Shepard, "You learn to ask for help. One way or another."   
  
Shepard doesn't have much to say to that. It's one thing to die, another thing entirely to live with that death, and Scott _did_. For two years. Shepard concedes the point with a sad smile, not quite meeting Scott's eyes.  
  
"Never was one for being on time, was I?" Shepard sighs, but Scott's quiet smile makes him feel a little better before he turns to leave. "I'll be there. Just let me know when."   
  
The room grows quiet and still after Shepard leaves, and Scott hates the way it feels over his skin. They're being careful, he knows that, but it's a case of holding back the flood of everything he wants to say to a man who means more than he even knows. Scott feels like he's going to crack if he keeps it all in any longer, but there's no right time, no right place. They're in a galaxy of unknowns, and there's nowhere to find safe harbour.  
  
Scott glances at the door, brow creasing as he frowns, thoughts crossing his mind with fleeting relevance.  
  
No safe harbour, unless safe harbour can be found in a person. And Scott's entirely inclined to believe in that idea.  
  
"Scott?" Lexi's voice calls him back to his surroundings, and he looks at her, finding no recollection of anything else she might have just said. He has the decency to look apologetic, at least.  
  
"I said you're good to go, just don't push anything. We don't know how SAM has integrated, and we don't want to make it worse." She says, watching him with careful eyes. Scott feels like she wants to ask something else, by the way her gaze drifts to the door and back to him.   
  
"And... don't push _him_ , either." Lexi adds, quietly, with an edge of concern. Scott looks between her and the door, then back to her again with raised eyebrows.  
  
"Who-- Shepard? What do you mean?"   
  
"He's struggling, Scott." Lexi places her datapad gently on the worktop, turning to face Scott as she leans back against the storage units, "Your history is none of my business, I won't pry, but you two clearly know each other far better than any of us do."  
  
"Maybe. Your point being?" Scott sounds more defensive than he means to be. He cringes inwardly; if Lexi didn't suspect anything before, she sure as hell would now. Thankfully, the asari seems not to dwell on it, instead finishing her point with folded arms and a sharp glance in Scott's direction.  
  
"Help each other. He's grieving, and so are you."   
  
Swallowing, Scott manages a mechanical nod as he slides off the metal cot, feet already taking him to the door. He steps through as they whir open, the cold air of the medbay lingering behind as he makes his way down to the tram. Lexi's words follow him like a cloud, and he tenses up as he steps onto the tram, punching in the access code for the terminal to take him to the docking bay. Once the tram doors close, Scott flings himself down onto the seats with a huff, staring at his omnitool, fingers absently calling up Shepard's commlink.  
  
"Hey Scott." Shepard's voice fills the tram, the last of the cold air snapping away as warm words filter through instead.   
  
"Docking bay in five, yeah?" Scott delivers the message, and he feels a twinge of nervousness in his stomach that he doesn't quite understand. Why does this feel different? He grits his teeth, waiting on Shepard's reply.  
  
"I'll be there. Cora and Liam are already on their way." Shepard's voice crackles through the comm as Scott passes through a blip in the network, signal scattering for a second.   
  
"Alright. Thanks, Cade." Scott chews on his lower lip for a second, not ending the call, Lexi's words hover in the back of his mind and he finds himself speaking again a moment later, "I mean it. I know it's... hard, being here."  
  
There's a brief pause, and he hears a quiet rustle of fabric in the background of Shepard's call.  
  
"Sorry, trying to find a fucking hoodie around here," Shepard's voice returns, carrying an edge of frustration that Scott highly suspects _isn't_ due to lack of suitable hoodies, "It's fine, Scott. Honestly. I... didn't realize how you felt."  
  
Scott appreciates the honesty. It's all he wants. A starting point.  
  
"Well, now you know. You owe me a few bar tabs for those two years, I'm throwing that out there."   
  
"Then I'll make it up to you, once we find a bar in this mess."   
  
"I'll hold you to that."  
  
"I'm counting on it. See you in a few."   
  
Scott ends the call with a smile, dismissing his omnitool and letting his head fall against the back of the seat lazily. The knot of nervousness in his stomach is gone, instead replaced with a blossoming warmth that he remembers from long ago.  
  
 _This_ is right. _This_ is a better beginning.


	13. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've received some incredible comments over the weekend that honestly have been humbling to see, so I want to thank each and every one of you dropping by to read this -- please know that it means a great deal to me that ZH is being received so well and you're making me want to write so much!! Thank you!! 
> 
> You might have noticed a switch in POV between Scott and Shepard, and I'm hoping to expand on it as we go further into the story so if you feel like it's switching, then it's definitely intentional, don't worry ;~)

"Pathfinder, I need you on the bridge. We have eyes on the Nexus. It's not good." Captain Dunn's voice filters through Scott's omnitool, and his good mood is immediately swept away. Grumbling, he dismisses the call and pulls up the tram console, directing it to the habitation deck instead, cutting the journey short. The tram stops harshly, and Scott steps out of the doors, already thinking of all the possible ways this could go wrong. He's not even surprised. Andromeda is dealing him one shitty hand after another, and all he can do is play them as best as he can.  
  
Stepping through the main doors to the habitation deck, the cool air hits him as he realizes what the Captain just called him. _Pathfinder_. The word is ugly on his shoulders, ill-fitting, and he almost wishes he could shake it off and run away. Not that Andromeda has anywhere to run to. He grits his teeth and walls off the thought. Rolling his shoulders, Scott hurries up his pace, clearing the main deck and ascending the steps to the bridge, another set of doors sliding open to reveal his team already there, and the Nexus in plain sight behind them through the viewing windows.  
  
"Is _that_ the Nexus?" Scott's voice alerts the group to his presence, and he walks forward, eyes fixed on the superstructure with angry disbelief. It rolls off him in sharp waves, almost making the group part as he fixes Dunn with a steely glare, highly reminiscent of Alec for a split second that nobody wants to notice.  
  
Dunn's right. It's not good at all. It's the furthest thing from _good_. The structure is a skeleton, scaffolding and construction left all across the station, the ugly bones of its development cluing them in to the fact that it's simply nowhere _near_ finished. It looks dead. No power. No sign of activity across the board. Empty static over comms where automated channels only cover the basics. The echo leaves a sick, empty feeling in Scott's gut, his fingers curling tightly around the rail in front of him.  
  
"Ryder, good to see you on your feet," Dunn starts, but her eyes turn straight back to the Nexus behind them, "We're at the Nexus." she confirms, and Scott grimaces.  
  
The pilot chirps up from ahead of them, announcing the start of their approach vector. It does nothing to lessen the tension in the room.  
  
"The Turian, Salarian and Asari arks should be there." Dunn informs Scott quietly, but hope is running low, and he's reluctant to think too far ahead. He just turns to the viewing window again, remaining silent.  
  
"It's almost as big as the Citadel back home!" Liam sounds far too eager for the situation, and the sound grates on Scott as much as the silence does. He isn't going to be happy until they set foot on that station and find out what's going on.  
  
"What exactly _is_ the Nexus?" Shepard speaks quietly, voice sounding for the first time since they'd gathered at the bridge. Of course. He wouldn't know, would he? Scott feels a little bad for leaving him in the dark as looks at him over his shoulder, mouth open on an answer, but Cora gets there before he does.  
  
"It's a forward hub for the entire Initiative. Like the Captain said, the other arks should be there too." She explains, arms folded tightly across her middle as she glances from Shepard to the Nexus, uncertainty plaguing her. Scott watches Shepard's expression turn skeptical, and he doesn't blame him in the slightest.  
  
"Nexus Control, this is Ark Hyperion requesting docking clearance." the pilot sounds again, and the room grows quiet, unease settling in like a gnawing chill.  
  
Nothing.  
  
"Captain, I'm only getting their automated approach channel, not a live person."  
  
Dunn frowns, brow creasing as she regards the station with narrowed eyes.  
  
"Like it or not, we're here. Take us in." she orders, and the group can only watch as the Nexus looms over them, gigantic in scope. The first step of their dream, and it isn't even _finished_. Scott wants to wake up, but no amount of pinching the skin between his thumb and index finger is helping.  
  
"Construction should've been finished by now..." Cora murmurs warily, her voice drawing closer as she takes a few steps towards the head of the bridge where Scott and Shepard stand, a tense mirror of each other with hands braced against the rail.  
  
"Could be worse--" Liam mutters absently, gaze still lost in the Nexus' labyrinthine construction, but Scott cuts him off.  
  
"How?" Scott's voice is unusually harsh and brittle in the cold air, "Habitat Seven's a bust, we might've started a war with the first aliens we've met and our Pathfinder's dead! _This_ better be rock bottom."  
  
Nobody speaks after that, Scott's cold anger filling the spaces in the room with quiet fear. He's right, but nobody wants to go down that particular path of thinking. Shepard's the only one who looks at him, slow and certain, eyes carrying their own message. _Calm down._ Scott finds his shoulders relaxing as he meets Shepard's gaze, but it's not enough. He's still on edge, still on the brink of sending humanity right into a disaster, and now they don't even have a simple foothold like the Nexus to support them. It's a mess, and he doubts even Shepard could fix this one.  
  
"Green across the board. Docking initiated." The pilot turns to the group, and Captain Dunn nods, her eyes falling on Scott as she turns.  
  
"All right. I got us here, Pathfinder. The rest is up to you." The way she speaks is almost callous, given how Scott is waiting on thin ice, and his face says as much when he turns away, quiet disbelief written across his expression as he pushes off the rail, feet taking him to the door. Shepard follows, Cora and Liam in quick succession, and they catch up with Scott as he descends the steps back onto the main deck in heavy silence.  
  
It's not until they step foot on the tram that Scott breaks the quiet, arms folding tight across his chest as he leans against the console when the doors slide shut.  
  
"Suppose there's no forward station. What then?" Scott glances at each of the assembled group in turn, gaze only softening slightly when he lands on Shepard's looming frame. The man isn't looking his way, staring out of the tram window up the darkened tunnel instead, watching the lights flicker by.  
  
"Then we proceed as a Pathfinding team." Cora sighs, allowing her composure to slip, now they're out of sight of the Captain. Liam shoots her a sympathetic look from his seat, but remains silent otherwise.  
  
"Which means _what_ , exactly?" Scott hisses, but his anger is fading quickly, turning into quiet defeat instead when Cora looks at him.  
  
"We know where our appointed worlds are. We can start there, get boots on the ground and find a foundation for the rest of us." Cora offers, a softness to her voice that wasn't there before, and Scott is thankful for it. He needs her guidance, now more than ever. He's still angry about Pathfinder being on his head and not hers, but there's nothing they can do.  
  
"SAM? Suggestions?" Scott turns to the only other voice of reason he can think of, the closest thing to his father's memory that any of them have.  
  
"I agree with Lieutenant Harper. Alec's plan was unknown, but he likely would have deferred to the little we do know as a starting point." SAM fills the room with something that Scott could almost call confidence, if he didn't feel so frustratingly _lost_.  
  
"SAM, did Alec leave a dossier?" Shepard finally speaks, but the question is completely lost on the rest of the team, who all shoot him matching expressions of confusion. Shepard turns, calling up his omnitool as he waits for SAM's reply.  
  
"Unknown, Shepard. He didn't say, but as his N7 training informed him, it might be a distinct possibility. If the assumption is correct, you would still need--"  
  
"Access codes. I know, SAM." Shepard murmurs, eyes fixed on the lines of data streaming across the omni-holo. "N7 level access is shared. We need it in case missions go FUBAR and another team needs to pick up the pieces."  
  
Scott feels a flicker of hope. It's more than welcome in the tense atmosphere of the tram, which is slowly dissipating as Shepard speaks with a quiet confidence. He's missed it.  
  
"I see. Alec didn't share this information with me." SAM hums, almost inquisitively, but Scott just thinks he's imagining it. Curiosity in an AI? They'd be barking up the wrong tree if that develops anytime soon. Right?  
  
"He wouldn't have. We're not meant to." Shepard smiles grimly, humourless, knowing that he's trading in a lifetime of secrets for one more shot at Andromeda. The realization dawns on Scott, and he wants to say something, but of all the words racing through his mind, not one of them sticks long enough to mean enough.  
  
"Shit. This is serious, 'ey?" Liam regards Shepard with a new-found awe, quiet, kept hidden under a show of professionalism that Scott sees right through. Cora raises an eyebrow, a little skeptical, but Scott doesn't miss the way she leans forward slightly in her seat, eyes fixed on Shepard.  
  
"Heh, you could say that." Shepard glances at Liam over the holo, and says nothing more when Liam shoots a thankful nod his way.  
  
"Shepard, this isn't--" Scott cuts himself off, words falling completely slack when Shepard looks at him, a quiet fire in his eyes as the orange holo reflects off them.  
  
"N7 isn't going to mean a thing in a few years out here. There won't _be_ any more, not once I'm gone." Shepard says, pointedly.  
  
Scott ignores the way his heart twinges at that.  
  
"We're always going to need elite operatives, Shepard." Cora says, something of a question in her tone.  
  
"Oh, sure. But you don't need N7." Shepard glances at her, half-shrugging as he dismisses his omnitool, "We were soldiers, once. Then we got turned into secrets, and that comes with red tape as far as you can see."  
  
"Alliance step too far?" Liam asks, frowning as he tries to put Shepard's words together.  
  
"Yeah," Shepard sighs, a strange weight off his shoulders, "The minute you start hiding things, people want to know about it."  
  
"And this dossier?" Scott turns back to the original point, curiosity piqued. Shepard matches his gaze with a curiosity of his own.  
  
"Might be there, might not exist at all. But there's a chance, and if Alec Ryder was half the N7 I knew, he would have left _something_."

* * *

Turns out the Nexus is still harboring life, but only just. Shepard doesn't want to think of the fourteen months they spent out here, alone. Between the directors of what's left of the Initiative, Shepard managed to glean enough information from their brief conversation that everything had gone to _complete_ shit. Hence why he's sitting on an empty bench in the Ops Centre, keeping an eye on Scott as the new Pathfinder drifts from sector to sector to speak with various important names that Shepard doesn't really give two fucks about right now.

He wants sleep. Food. A hot shower. In whatever order he can find them in. Shepard presses the heel of his hand to his temple, feeling a familiar flare of pain spiking from his biotic implant. It's not crippling, but it's uncomfortable, and the lights across the Ops Centre don't do anything to help the thumping edge of a headache settling in.  
  
"Shepard, your vitals are showing moderate distress. Perhaps it would be better for you to return to Hyperion?" SAM crackles over the quiet space, and Shepard briefly considers it. His eyes land on Scott, who's walking towards him, eyes downcast.  
  
"Maybe not right now. Scott?" Shepard dismisses SAM, his attention fully on the disgruntled Pathfinder who looks up when he hears his name.  
  
"This is an absolute crock of _shit_." Scott doesn't hold back on his thoughts, glancing around the floor with exasperation as he comes to stand by Shepard, hands firmly in his pockets as he tries to refrain from shoving every kind of two-fingered salute in Addison's general direction.  
  
"Mhm, thought I'd seen the last of bullshit bureaucracy back home." Shepard murmurs, a bitter line through his words.  
  
"Oh, no, it's universal, apparently." Scott pinches the bridge of his nose for a second, before dragging his hand down his face with a heavy sigh, looking up at the vast ceiling. He stays like that for a moment, feeling a little better for Shepard's presence, before he drops his gaze to the man in question, who isn't looking at him anymore. Frowning, Scott notices the way he's digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, and his whole body seems coiled tight.  
  
"Cade? You okay?" Scott steps closer, and his worry only grows when Shepard doesn't reply.  
  
"He is experiencing a flare in his implant. I have recommended that he returns to Hyperion, but he is intent on staying with you."  
  
"Oh, thanks, SAM. Rat me out." Shepard looks up, exasperated, hands dropping to his knees. Scott can't help his grin, and Shepard has to refrain from rolling his eyes, before he makes his headache any worse. SAM isn't wrong, though, Shepard knows, and he looks at Scott.  
  
"You said you wanted me here, so, I'm fine, and I'm staying." Shepard reiterates, sitting back in his seat.  
  
" _Cade_."  
  
Shepard hates the way Scott says his name. Except he _doesn't_ , at all.  
  
"Humour me." Shepard says quietly, a faint smile on the curve of his lips. Scott recognizes it easily.  
  
"Fine. But you can come with me to see Tann if you're staying." Scott challenges, his grin turning wicked as Shepard regards him with narrowed eyes.  
  
"I said humour me, not _murder_ me." Shepard grumbles, but he pushes himself up anyway, falling into step easily as Scott leads the way with a quiet laugh that makes Shepard feel better than he's felt all day.


	14. Stories

Shepard feels _wrong_ as soon as he slides into the room behind Scott, Director Tann already engaged in conversation with Cora at a console bearing a holo of Habitat Seven.   
  
"--it wasn't even close to livable." They catch the tail end of Cora's explanation, and Tann looks over at them, shrewd and quiet. Shepard doesn't trust him at all. Scott's not much better, but he at least has the mantle of Pathfinder to protect him. Shepard would only get the brunt of the Director's quiet ire if he tries anything, and he knows this enough to keep his mouth shut, even if in a grim line.   
  
"Ah, Ryder. We were discussing your next expedition." Tann speaks first, voice strained, and his eyes are clearly on Shepard, who looks close to saying something he shouldn't.  
  
"Oh, I measure up as Pathfinder now, huh?" Scott's sarcasm is scathing, and Cora has to duck her head to avoid smiling in amusement. Shepard smirks at Tann, folding his arms as he leans back against the wall behind him.  
  
"Hm. Director Addison is entitled to her opinion. Mine, however, overrules hers." Tann sniffs, dismissing the holo between them.   
  
"Is that right?" Scott huffs, eyes narrowing slightly as he regards the Director with feigned interest in their conversation.  
  
"I oversee the entire Initiative, and I've decided to give you a chance to prove yourself." Tann shifts his weight to his other leg, blinking as his gaze settles on Scott instead, "To that end, the Scourge dealt us a serious blow. Whatever it is, our scientists theorize it's not natural."   
  
"An artificial energy cloud?" Cora frowns, looking up at Tann. Shepard doesn't quite believe the idea either.  
  
"It wasn't here when we left the Milky Way, yet it rendered all golden worlds unlivable." Tann explains wearily, looking between her and Scott, "And then there's the aliens -- the "Kett" -- they're obsessed with those alien structures we've found across the cluster."  
  
"We're familiar with them." Scott grouses, fingers fidgeting as he waits for Tann to finish relaying all his information.  
  
"Yes, so you understand that they'll do anything to prevent our people from accessing those structures. _Including_ murder." Tann fiddles with the console in front of him, bringing up a new holo as he continues talking. Shepard is beginning to wonder whether all salarians insist on talking so much as a fundamental trait of their species. His ears almost hurt.  
  
"And now the challenge is to settle a world in spite of all that -- this one here, Eos."   
  
The holo flickers into life, bearing an image of a desert-looking planet, and Scott just stares at it incredulously. No big deal, just make the planet livable for thousands, right? He wants to laugh, but he refrains, looking back at Tann.  
  
" _How?_ " he asks the obvious question, arms folding across his chest.  
  
"Increase the viability of the planet so that we can set up an outpost, and then we can start bringing our colonists out of stasis." Tann states simply, as if it's an easy task. Scott doesn't see how the hell he's going to _start_.  
  
"The more colonists you have, the more resources you'll gather." Shepard almost seems to read his mind, voice rolling over from behind Scott, who turns to look at him.   
  
"Start small." Shepard simplifies, gesturing with a nod towards the holo of Eos at Tann's console. Right. Get feet on the ground, and build from the ground up, not from the sky down. Makes sense. Scott nods, feeling a little better at the prospect, no thanks to the Director, who's still glaring at him as if he's expecting something else.  
  
"Okay... but, you said every planet is unlivable, so... how do I--" Scott voices the foremost of his concerns, his words slow and stumbling as he plays catch up.   
  
"A good Pathfinder would relish the challenge of solving it." Tann says drily, leaving no room for discussion. Cora clears her throat, sensing the shift of tension in the room, and announces her leave, with a passing 'see you later' to both Scott and Shepard as she steps out of the doors.   
  
"And there is the small matter of your... _crew_." Tann finally relents, eyes narrowing as they land on Shepard's looming frame, leaning nonchalantly against the wall with an expression that all but dared Tann to try and chew him out. He isn't in the mood.   
  
"What?" Scott interrupts, glancing quickly between Shepard and the Director with a quirked eyebrow, not quite getting the point.  
  
"Commander Shepard. That's not a name I expected to be here." Tann starts, his voice already getting under Scott's skin, irritating him to the bone.   
  
"Join the club." Shepard snarks right back, and Scott rubs his jaw in an attempt to hide the smile that's threatening at his lips. Tann is only setting himself up for misery.  
  
"Yes, so I hear." Tann's voice only grows more strained, "The point still stands, however, that you are a liability. We know nothing about you. You weren't officially sanctioned, and your records are patchy at best. Completely unreliable at worst."   
  
Shepard pushes himself off the wall with a sigh, arms dropping to his sides as he walks over with casual strides until he's standing next to Scott, almost looming over Tann with his height.  
  
"I've been awake twenty-four hours. I can definitely assure you I haven't started a crime ring in the meantime."   
  
Tann almost looks offended. Scott bites his lower lip between his teeth, almost sucking in his cheeks as he tries not to laugh.   
  
"I can't officially sanction your presence on any Initiative operation." Tann drops his final argument, and Shepard just smiles, quiet and confident. It's enough to make Tann narrow his eyes again, and there's a certain distaste written all over Tann's expression. Scott just looks at Shepard, eyebrows raised as if he can't believe the words that just came out of Tann's mouth.  
  
"Well, with all due respect, _Director_ ," Shepard chooses his words carefully, but they still carry an edge of defiance that Scott recognizes so easily, "I'm not Initiative. I don't take orders from you."   
  
That's enough to make Tann stop in his tracks. He bristles, musing on his reply while the tension in the room grows twofold.   
  
"Then who do you plan on taking orders from, Shepard?" he asks, finally. Shepard just looks at Scott for a brief moment, long enough to see the surprise forming on his lips as his eyes widen, before turning back to Tann.  
  
"The Pathfinder."   
  
Scott looks pleased, eyes lit up as he looks back at Tann with a smirk on his lips. Shepard takes the salarian's exasperated sigh as a small victory, his confidence coming back, bit by broken bit.   
  
"So, where's my ship?" Scott wastes no time, hands at his hips as he waits for Tann's reluctant reply.  
  
"They're prepping it now, in the docking bay. The co-ordinates will be in the computer." Tann relays, dismissing his holo again as he regards the two men with a weary look, "And when you have a moment, we should discuss the missing arks."   
  
Scott nods, smile fading as the reality of the situation comes back to him. Shepard isn't convinced that those arks have much of a chance if they haven't been found yet. He doesn't say anything, though, deferring to Scott for a reply.  
  
"I was wondering about tha--" Scott's words are cut off with a wince, his hand shooting up to his head as his eyes screw shut, pain etched in the line of his grimace. Shepard frowns, hand instinctively reaching out, but he draws it back quickly, before Scott opens his eyes again.  
  
"Something wrong?" Tann asks, not sounding the slightest bit concerned.   
  
"No, I'm fine." Scott pulls himself together a moment later, and nods to Tann, "Thanks."   
  
Tann spares a final glance at both of them, and turns to his console. Scott takes it as their cue to leave, nodding his head towards the door when he looks at Shepard, who follows him out without a word until they're out of Tann's earshot.  
  
"What's wrong?" Shepard speaks quietly, only for Scott to hear. Scott just shakes his head, making his way straight for the tram. They descend a flight of steps in silence, Shepard's concern turning sour as Scott reaches for his head again, another wince slipping past his lips.  
  
"Is it SAM?" Shepard murmurs once they're out of the hubbub of the Ops Centre, tram doors sliding shut behind them with increasing familiarity. Scott just nods weakly, slumping into one of the seats while Shepard deals with the console.  
  
"Need to go to SAM node." Scott mumbles, leaning his head back against the seat.   
  
"Alright." Shepard punches the order in, watching as the display highlights the habitation deck and locks it in, and the tram pushes off slowly. Shepard dismisses his omnitool, turning to look at Scott with concern laden on his features.   
  
"Guess we're sharing the headaches today, huh?" Scott snickers quietly, but Shepard just rolls his eyes, feeling the twinge as pain flares up from the top of his spine. He takes a seat on the row opposite Scott, legs stretching out as he yawns, his exhaustion trying its best to catch up with him.  
  
"Did you mean that, by the way? What you said to Tann?" Scott voices his question, but Shepard catches the shyness to his words. An usual occurrence, for Scott Ryder. Shepard looks at him, eyes gentle in the flickering lights of the tunnel.  
  
"Yeah, I did." Shepard says softly, his usual boldness gone, "This isn't my place. You know that."  
  
"You have experience, though. That's worth a hell of a lot." Scott sits up properly, fixing his eyes on Shepard with a new intensity.  
  
"Maybe. But this is a new galaxy and we need new ideas, not old mistakes." Shepard scratches idly at his jaw, feeling the stubble there, making a quiet note to at least grab a shower and make himself look presentable before he steps out again. Scott just watches quietly, chewing over his words.  
  
"You've never been a mistake."   
  
Shepard just blinks, the revelation stark in the dim light of the tram, pierced only by the lights that pass by every few seconds. His gaze stays locked on Scott's own, where a quiet confession is written in blue. It's everything, and nothing, all at once. Shepard feels his heart pounding wildly against his ribcage, mouth dry as he tries to think of something to say.   
  
"I was never mad that you _died_ , Cade," Scott's voice is barely louder than a whisper now, and all Shepard can hear otherwise is the tram roaring, senses pushed to the limit as lights flicker past with increasing intensity, "I was only angry that we started something and never finished it."   
  
Shepard can't hold his gaze anymore, the intensity burning right through him. He drops his head, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees as his gaze falls on the grey floor. Everything is _there_ , right there in front of him, and he won't take it. Not like this. This is desperate, clutching at straws for a story that was never meant to begin in the first place. Scott deserves better than this.  
  
Better than _him_.   
  
"And you hate unfinished stories, huh?" Shepard sighs, chin resting on a curled fist, his eyes still fixed on the ground beneath his feet.   
  
"More than anything." Scott replies, with a certainty that Shepard can't ignore.   
  
The tram begins to slow, and Shepard hears the rustle of fabric as Scott stands, his feet coming into view, stopping right in front of him. Shepard just looks up slowly, hands falling to his knees where they fiddle idly, betraying Shepard's anxiety. Scott just meets him with a look that Shepard remembers from years ago - it's quiet and soft and _kind_. Unbearably kind.   
  
It suits him so much better than grief does, or anger. Shepard knows he'd do anything to keep it like that, and it scares him, how intense that certainty is.  
  
"Then start a new one." Shepard murmurs, "Andromeda's waiting."   
  
Scott just shakes his head, almost exasperated, a quiet smile on his face as he looks towards the tram doors, whirring open as the tram slows to a stop.  
  
"Not without you." Scott states simply, looking back at Shepard, who hasn't moved. It takes a moment, but Shepard manages to crack a smile, golden and quiet and just for Scott. He stands up slowly, tension rolling off his shoulders with an ease that he knows is entirely Scott's doing. Taking a step towards the door, Shepard finds his usual snark again, looking at Scott with a wicked spark to his eye.  
  
"Never said that, did I?" he chuckles warmly, the relief palpable in the air, and Scott just grins back at him, leading the way off the tram and up towards the main deck of Hyperion, Shepard close behind.


	15. Revelations

Scott walks into SAM node, the cool air refreshing over flushed skin as the quiet tension from the tram ride over wears off. He spares a glance behind him to see Shepard waiting awkwardly in the doorway, and his brow creases into a frown, an unspoken question on his lips.  
  
"I need to catch some sleep, or coffee." Shepard sighs tiredly, "And SAM probably doesn't have either."   
  
Scott smiles wryly, shaking his head as he glances over at the blue holo of SAM, who remains a comforting presence even amidst all this. SAM wants to talk to him, in private, and Scott heaves out a breath as he turns back to Shepard.  
  
"Alright. I'll catch up with you later. Cora will let us know when the ship is ready."   
  
Shepard nods, pushing himself gently off the doorframe as he turns to leave, but not before shooting Scott a bright smile that leaves Scott wordless.  
  
"Your own ship, and your own command. Careful, they'll be calling you a hero next." he says, and Scott swears down he sees a wink pass the man's face before he disappears. Gulping, he shakes his head and tries not to think about it, needing to talk to SAM, but there's a ridiculous smile on his face and he knows it.  
  
 _Damn him._  
  
"You wanted to see me, SAM?"   
  


* * *

  
Shepard finds his way back to his isolated cryo-wing, absently wondering why he was woken up here. His feet hit a datapad, left on the floor from the gravity loss, and Shepard is hit with the realisation that twenty four hours in Andromeda has only left him with more questions than he had when started. Swallowing, he tries to force the niggling fears to the back of his mind, crouching down to pick up the datapad and set it somewhere safer.   
  
This room is kept away for a reason. Shepard looks around after he sets the datapad down, intent on finding _something_. Secrets only ever turn into dangerous things, and those things always lead to people getting hurt. He's tired of seeing history repeat itself, and bringing such an idea to Andromeda is only going to blow up in their faces sooner or later. Shepard is happy to bear the brunt of it, if it means safer waters for Scott.   
  
He just needs to find it, first.  
  
"What do you want from me?" Shepard murmurs lowly to himself, crossing the room with careful steps. He briefly considers asking SAM for help, but the notion dawns on him that Scott would figure out what he's doing if he diverts SAM's processing power. At least, he theorizes that much as he rifles through a shelf of locked files. He finds one without a name, yanks it out of the space and flicks the coffee machine on as he passes. Setting the folder down on the work surface, Shepard turns his attention to how he's going to open it. They're all locked. Biometric scans? Unlikely, in case of emergency. Passcode? Too much information to store across a ship like this. Simple mechanical locks seem to be the most likely solution, and Shepard chews absently on his lower lip as he considers just how to crack it open.  
  
Once he settles on a plan, a crackle of blue settles over his hands, wrapping around his fingers in careful lines that Shepard constructs with ease. He pulls them gently, finding the pin to unlock, and he moves his hands with a precision better suited to surgeons than a soldier. He pushes carefully, and the pin bends out of its lock, popping the folder open with a satisfying click. Smiling to himself, Shepard flips the folder open onto the first page before he turns to the coffee machine, whistling away on the workbench. Pouring himself a cup, he lets the warmth seep through his hands and down to his body, feeling tense and tired from the day he's had.  
  
People don't _trust_ him out here. Tann said it himself: they knew nothing about him outside of patchy records and stories, and even then, Shepard's willing to bet half those stories aren't even true. It's a bureaucratic nightmare for them, and they can't put him on lockdown without inciting unrest across the station. His name is both a blessing and a curse, and Shepard sighs through the steam rising from the coffee, watching it curl and disappear. Taking a sip, he relishes the bitter burn in his mouth, swallowing with a wince as the liquid almost burns his throat, and then he turns to look at the folder waiting for him.  
  
Nameless for a reason. He needs to find out _why_. Shepard notices the way every line requiring ID has been left blank, a heavy line inked through the blank space so hard it's left indents in the pages behind it. The basic details are there, the things that Shepard knows belong to him: born 11th April 2154, enlisted in the Systems Alliance aged sixteen, participant of the Skyllian Blitz, Commanding Officer in the Torfan raids, N7 graduate by twenty-four. His life seems so callous when it's written down the way it is, in stark black lines upon white paper, fitting neatly into a box. He grimaces, fingers moving down the paper as he finds the next piece of information.   
  
_Reported KIA by the Systems Alliance Navy, 2183._   
  
The line stops there. Shepard frowns, taking another sip of coffee as he tries to piece it all together. There's too many gaps, right now, for anything solid to form. Theory is pointless without practice, and Shepard knows any answers would've been found back in the Milky Way, not here. Instead of dwelling on it, he flips the page, finding the words MEDICAL HISTORY outlined in bold text. Nothing interesting or useful there, he decides, and flips a few more pages in the vain hope of finding something. Anything.   
  
There's nothing.  
  
Not _one_ thing.  
  
He growls, flipping the folder shut with a quiet thud as it scrapes along the worktop, stopping when it hits the wall. Even the datapad Lexi had let him browse through when he woke up had no reason for his being here, only a gruesome description of his own death, followed by an equally grisly account of his reconstruction. The reinforced bone, the bio-synthetic skin, the muscle weaves -- it all makes him feel so inhuman, like a weapon built for a singular purpose, and he can't understand why. It's driving him into the mire of questions he'd thought he could leave behind, and he can feel the way it's sinking bone-deep like an unreachable itch.   
  
"Shepard, the Pathfinder is requesting your presence on the main deck." SAM's cool voice sparks across the room, startling Shepard who's already on edge from his own frustration. The hot coffee spills over his hand when he jumps, and he hisses loudly, slamming the cup down on the bench with a rising anger thumping in his ribcage.  
  
"Why?" Shepard grouses at the AI, wiping his hand against his leg as it starts to sting. He looks around for medigel, eyes landing on a familiar looking red crate. He stalks over and kicks it open, holding his hand up as he fumbles around for a pack and tears it open, relief washing over him as the cool gel covers the burn.  
  
"He says there is something that you should see, Shepard." SAM responds cryptically, but Shepard really isn't in the mood to deal with it. More to the point, why is Scott talking through SAM and not their comm channel? He huffs, nudging the box back under a shelf with his foot, discarding the empty pack before walking back to the abandoned folder, sparing another cursory glance as if something new would've appeared in the time he's walked away and come back.   
  
"Why doesn't he call me, then?" Shepard sighs, not meaning to direct it anywhere in particular, but SAM takes the question literally, unsurprisingly.  
  
"He is otherwise occupied." SAM informs Shepard, who quirks an eyebrow up at the ceiling, still pretending that SAM exists somewhere up there. The quiet of the room quickly engulfs him again, and he sighs, immediately hit with a desire for human presence. He'd find sleep, eventually, the coffee would just have to suffice for now, he thinks, striding out of the doors to the tram again.  
  


* * *

  
Scott feels uncomfortably small and insignificant, sitting in his father's quarters, the steel chair hard and unrelenting as he wheels around the desk idly, datapad in hand. He's still reeling from the eidetic trigger he just found, let alone living one of his father's memories through SAM. Seeing his mom again had lodged something out of place, something profound and quiet, hidden in a heavily armoured heart. He didn't want to speak, not really, his voice felt thin and weak and he hated it, so he'd asked SAM to get a hold of Shepard for him.  
  
The datapad in his hand has a familiar name embedded in the holoscreen. Liara T'Soni. Scott knows the name, Shepard had talked about her in one of their video calls when he'd first been stationed on the Normandy. A researcher of some kind. Prothean expert, according to this datapad. There's nothing entirely relevant on it, but the audio log is... well, something tells him he needs to let Shepard hear it.   
  
The doors behind him whir open gently, quiet footsteps following in their wake. Scott spins the chair round to greet Shepard, who looks no less tired than before. Scott doesn't speak, just holds up the datapad with a sympathetic look that makes Shepard stop before he takes it, brow furrowed in confusion. As soon as the first few syllables ring out, Shepard's eyes screw shut and his face turns pained. Scott feels his heart lurch in his chest, wondering if he's done the right thing, watching quietly as Shepard finds his way to a chair pulled out at the makeshift dining table. There's a vulnerability to the way Shepard lets the datapad fall to the table, head resting in his hand, fingers curling tightly in his hair as he opens his eyes again, staring at the holoscreen. Scott can't place the expression, and he feels another twinge in his chest.  
  
"She liked to have a plan." Shepard murmurs absently as the recording fades out, and Scott's content to listen as long as he needs him to. There's a quietness to Shepard that Scott's only ever seen once before, and that was when he left Arcturus.   
  
"Bet she kept you in line." Scott tries to lighten the mood, sitting up in his seat, hands playing idly at the arms of the chair. Scott's glad when he sees the slightest curve of a smile on Shepard's lips.  
  
"Took a whole crew of them, to be honest with you." Shepard says softly, fingers running idly over the lines of data on the holoscreen, but he stops when he realizes there's nothing to find there. All Liara's voice does is send him screeching back through space, orbits flying past him in their insignificant clusters, so minute and meaningless on the scale he was fighting on, against an enemy nobody believed in. He sees everything: Noveria, Feros, Virmire, Ilos, the Citadel in ruins, Sovereign-- it's a broken record, scratching loudly every time he tries to stop it, punctuated by the harrowing screech of the Cipher, the Prothean beacon still pulling at his memory, Saren--  
  
"Hey, come back." Scott's voice is right next to him, not across the room, and Shepard blinks, sucking in a sharp breath as blue and grey filters back into shape. Scott's hand is on his arm, and it's blissfully grounding, anchoring him to the here and now where he needs to be. Meeting Scott's gaze, Shepard finds concern etched on his brow, but he just smiles, small and quiet.  
  
"Sorry. A lot happened in... uh, just. I don't know. It doesn't make any sense when I think about it. It just ends. I know I'm talking shit right now--" Shepard starts to ramble, and Scott gives his arm a gentle squeeze, sitting on the chair next to him after he pulls it closer.   
  
"Nobody could make sense of the shit you've done, Cade. Nobody _expects_ you to either." Scott reminds him gently, desperately trying to ignore the way Shepard fills his senses in such close proximity.   
  
"Yeah, that's the thing. Nobody expects anything of me here, and... I'm not used to that. I need to have some kind of reason. _Purpose_. Cerberus didn't blow two billion credits to bring me back for nothing. I need _something_ , Scott." Shepard's voice is strained, and Scot can almost hear the brittle cracks in between the words. Cerberus. Scott frowns, not quite understanding the impact behind the name, but it's enough to make Shepard uneasy, and that's bad enough for Scott.  
  
"Looks like we've both got some mysteries to solve. We'll work it out -- we always do." Scott dares to lean closer, butterflies in his stomach as he perches on the edge of his seat. Shepard just watches, eyes shrouded by a shadow Scott can't place, but he knows he wants to make it go away.   
  
"Mysteries, huh? You got one too?" Shepard's words are dangerously close, and Scott feels dizzy with possibility, the rest of the room drowning out into shades of white as Shepard regards him with eyes that flicker down to his lips and back, and Scott knows he isn't imagining it. Scott swallows, throat dry, and he has a response waiting, about to spill from careless lips when the shrill ringing of his comm channel cuts through them, drowning the room in colour again. The tension is ripped with a sigh as they both sit back, gazes drawn elsewhere as Scott reluctantly drops his hand from Shepard's arm, picking up the call with thin annoyance in his voice. It's Cora.  
  
"Your ship is waiting, Pathfinder."


	16. Tempest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in updating! This chapter was just. not happening. until today, apparently.

"Holy _shit_." Scott stares, mouth agape and eyes wide in the glare of the light as the Tempest flies past. He's not really sure what else he can say, Shepard and Cora stand next to him with matching expressions of awe.   
  
The Tempest is a marvel of engineering, no doubt about it. Sleek, fast, clearly made for scouting, emblazoned carefully with its name along the side that catches the dayglare as it begins its slow descent to the landing pad. Scott feels wildly out of his depth for a moment, but he catches his steel and squares his shoulders, smiling brightly. This is the kind of challenge he needs, the kind he can grab onto with both hands and work his way through it relentlessly, needing to find too many answers for too many questions.   
  
"That looks... familiar." Shepard murmurs idly from behind him, awe fading fast into memory and Scott spares him a sympathetic glance, but Shepard only smiles back. In truth, being on a starship again would make him feel a lot better. Scott gets the feeling that the Tempest will be good for them, in more ways than just getting them from A to B.   
  
"She's incredible." Cora hums from next to them, her usual calm facade momentarily broken by a bright smile and an eagerness to her eyes, one that Scott wishes she'd show more of. He'd take the moments for what they are, though, and he's just glad to see this one.   
  
"Let's go take a closer look." Scott says, turning back to the Tempest as it lands. There's a flurry of activity down on the docks, and Shepard just follows Cora and Scott as they make their way through the hubbub, Shepard feeling more than slightly out of place in the crowd. They're all uncertain, footsteps lacking in true confidence in their direction, but there's a quiet thrum of excitement, palpable across the deck as they thread their way through the commotion. It's enough to go on, Scott decides, trying not to dwell on the twist of grief that spikes when he wishes his Dad were here to see it.   
  
Shepard isn't paying much attention past their immediate steps, eyes taking in every detail he can find on the Tempest, a melancholy comfort settling in over his skin. It's familiar. The silhouette, the design, it almost fits a shape that lingers on the edge of his memory. He's not letting it come any closer.  
  
It's not until Shepard almost bumps into the back of Scott that he looks straight ahead, finding a turian descending the docking ramp towards them.  
  
"Vetra. Vetra Nyx." Straight to the point, Shepard likes it. "Initiative wrangler, provisioner, gunner, and everything in between."   
  
She stops right in front of them, her height giving her easy stature over the rest of them, but she doesn't use it to intimidate, Shepard notices, eyeing the way she leans back casually, arms folded as her mandibles twitch in what Shepard remembers to be akin to a turian smile. _Thanks, Vakarian._  
  
"Are we ready? The sooner we get out of here, the better." Vetra cocks her head slightly, and Shepard's entirely inclined to her way of thinking. He's had enough of the Nexus, and the Hyperion. Being grounded only makes him itch to leave.   
  
"You're coming with us?" Scott asks, a little hesitant. Shepard almost jabs him in the back, not wanting to delay their departure any further.   
  
"Yes. Otherwise there's no way they're letting your ship off the station." Vetra replies, in a tone that underlines mild distaste for the authority figures pulling these particular strings. Shepard rolls his eyes, a thin smile appearing when he recognizes the connections.  
  
Initiative wrangler? She's a smuggler. Shepard doesn't doubt that the Tempest is loaded with cargo, and she has places to be, people to see.   
  
"What's the rush?" Scott folds his arms across his chest, stance casual as he eyes up the situation. Cora sighs next to him, sparing him a weary look as Vetra turns away with a flick of her mandibles in Scott's direction.  
  
"Fourteen months late. Just don't want to waste any more time." She clicks her tongue, watching as the last few crates get divvied up the ramp by the dockworkers. Shepard eyes one of the crates, wondering what kind of cargo they were about to be hauling. He meets Vetra's look with a matching one of his own, a knowing smirk pulling at his lips when she does a double-take.  
  
"Alright. Let's see what the fuss is about, huh?" Scott relents, dropping his arms to his sides as he takes off after her, long strides easily closing the distance. Cora spares Shepard a curious look, to which he just shakes his head before following Scott and Vetra. The minute they set foot on the ramp, there's a voice calling after them. One of the Initiative strings, Shepard assumes.  
  
"Hold it. Hold it!" A breathless dockworker stops short of the ramp, clutching onto his datapad like a prized token of his temporary authority, "You're not going _anywhere_."   
  
"Damn it." Vetra sighs audibly, stopping mid-gait ahead of everybody else. She turns slowly, eyes narrowing into slits through her visor as she regards the worker. She's looking for something.   
  
"Whatever it is, it wasn't me. I just got here." Scott drawls, and Shepard snickers at the line. Cora just spares them both a weary glance.  
  
"Yeah, it's usually you getting called up." Shepard throws at Scott, who grins back at him, the very picture of the troublemaker he used to be on Arcturus. It uncoils one of the many knots sitting under Shepard's skin, reassuring in a way Shepard couldn't place.   
  
"Director Addison wants to see a complete report of the Tempest's supplies, munitions and crew." The dockworker emphasizes every item with a gesture, and Shepard finds it hard to listen past the way his hands are flurrying over his datapad, practically glowering at Vetra.   
  
"And Tann _overruled_ Addison..." Scott sticks his foot in, his own patience running thin with every obstacle the Initiative had decided to throw his way. Shepard can't blame him.  
  
"This ship's loaded out with equipment for outpost discovery -- squarely under Director Addison's purview."   
  
Shepard can tell this conversation is going to run in circles before they get anywhere useful, and Vetra knows it too. She gestures for Scott to let her take care of it, stepping between the group to lead the dockworker away with a careful facade.   
  
"Smuggler." Shepard says in aside to Scott, who turns to him, curious. Cora just looks at them with a raised eyebrow, a question hanging in the air.  
  
"This ship is _loaded_ with cargo." Shepard says through his teeth, eyes narrowing as he watches Vetra negotiate something with the dockworker. It's fluent, the way she speaks. Learned. Practiced.   
  
Necessary.   
  
"That could be dangerous." Cora muses quietly, glancing back to Vetra for a moment. Scott just shrugs, sighing.  
  
"Right now, it's not a problem." He says simply, and Shepard agrees with him. It's not a problem, and likely wouldn't be, if Vetra's as good as she looks.   
  
"It's necessary, anyway. We don't have an economy, trade isn't going to be running for a while. And suppose we need supplies out there? It's crude, but it works." Shepard adds, and Cora's distrust seems to fade. She nods, eventually, conceding the point as Vetra finishes tying up her deal. She turns back to them with a passing nod to Scott.  
  
"Nicely done." Scott murmurs, and Vetra snickers, subvocals humming.  
  
"Part of the job, Pathfinder." She strides up the ramp, easily moving past them, "All things considered, it was an easy ask."  
  
Half-turning to look back at them, Vetra shrugs loosely, talons in the air for a moment as she continues her strides backwards. "And right now, you need people tearing down obstacles, not putting up more."  
  
Scott's eyes brighten considerably, a small weight lifting off his shoulders. Shepard's just glad to have someone who knows what they're doing. They follow Vetra up the ramp, finally ascending into the body of the Tempest with quiet anticipation.  
  
"Everything's state of the art." Vetra explains as she walks off the ramp into the hangar, and Shepard stops, taking everything in for the moment that he can. It's vast -- bigger than the cramped quarters of the Normandy, and everything is stark in its lines and angles, sharp and purposeful, precise design. Shepard almost wants to take it apart, just to see how it all fits. He'd spent hours roaming over Normandy's blueprints in his downtime, every detail slotting into his mind like a map. It's a bittersweet reminder, and Shepard keeps his silence as he fidgets, fingers tangling with each other as he wrings his hands, ignoring the idle chatter as they move through the ship.  
  
Vetra mentions something about the crew, and Shepard barely realizes Lexi greeting him as he passes. He shoots her something he hopes is a smile, but he's lost in the bright lines of the Tempest. Cora mentions something about checking out the armoury, leaving him and Scott following Vetra through the ship. They step onto a metal grate, Vetra taps the console for the lift and Shepard feels the jolt as it moves up, granting them access to the upper level. Shepard spares a glance through the engineering windows, the engine core humming with a familiar blue light. Overhearing Vetra's comment about ODSY cores, Shepard knows he'll have to pick an engineer's brains about that sometime. Moving past, he catches the tail end of a new voice that Vetra introduces as Gil Brodie. The man shoots him a half-smile, a sparkle to his eye that Shepard doesn't miss as he passes.  
  
"And this here--" Vetra leads them up a few steps, passing through a set of doors into an open room, viewing windows spanning the upper level, flooding the central console with a pleasant light, "Is what we call the research room. Upgrade your gear, gather your intel--"  
  
"Router engaged. Securing connection to the Tempest." SAM's cool voice chimes through the ship, and Shepard feels better for it. Flying blind in a galaxy they know nothing about would've been a disaster from the word go, but with SAM, Shepard thinks they'll have a chance. He'll take it, anyway.  
  
"Welcome aboard, SAM!" A new voice joins the sequence, Shepard's ears picking up the finer notes of a Scots accent that makes him turn to look. A shock of red hair and bright eyes greets him, and a wry smile pulls at his mouth.  
  
"Hello." Shepard manages to say, his own accent striking a familiar chord with the woman, who looks pleasantly surprised.  
  
"Suvi Anwar, our science officer. She's the brains of this ship." Vetra introduces her, and Shepard chuckles quietly.  
  
"Heh. We'll need brains with this guy." Shepard glances at Scott, who snorts, looking at him with mock insult. Scott reaches back to give him a playful shove, but the gesture only leaves a quiet warmth sitting in Shepard's chest where Scott's hand has left an invisible mark. Vetra's mandibles flare as she nods to Suvi, and they move up to what Shepard can only presume is the comms centre, where vid-screens and a console centre take up most of the space.  
  
"Your quarters are below. There's plenty of space to get everyone up here together." Vetra directs to Scott, who wanders over to the rail encircling the upper deck, face a mix of disbelief and awe. Shepard lingers by the console, eyes drifting across the empty feeds. It's so familiar, and yet completely different, and Shepard's struggling to find a grasp on the concept. It's a scout ship, no doubt about it. He doesn't feel as safe in these walls as he did on the Normandy, but he supposes the lack of a main gun doesn't help. Even the armoury is limited, Shepard muses, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth idly.   
  
"She's light, she's stealthy, and she's the fastest ship in her class. All yours." Vetra finishes, sparing a quick glance back to Shepard who doesn't look up. He leans his hip against the console, hands resting gently on the panel. Scott shifts by the railing, exhaling sharply as reality settles in, filtering in between the cracks where the Tempest had briefly distracted him from their real mission.  
  
"Every plan the Initiative made is out the window. Now it's on us to find a way." Scott murmurs quietly, running a hand along the rail absently, "No pressure."   
  
"We all came here ready for a challenge." Vetra assures, her gaze turning to the walkway down below. "When you're ready to fly, head over to the bridge. Our pilot should have everything good to go."   
  
She takes her leave after that, casual strides leading her back down to the research station and into engineering, the doors sliding shut behind her coattails.   
  
When she's out of sight, Scott visibly crumbles across the way, hands sliding into his hair as he hangs his head, elbows resting on the metal rail. Shepard watches for a moment, brow furrowing as he decides on what to do. The task ahead of them is daunting, even for Shepard, and he's at a loss himself.   
  
"Scott?" Shepard tries his name, but it doesn't garner a reaction, only the same stoic pose that doesn't suit Scott at all. Shepard pushes himself away from the console, feet finding their way to Scott's side, like following an old memory. He doesn't say anything, just slides his arms onto the rail, hands clasped in front of him as he leans forward, waiting for Scott.  
  
"I am nowhere _near_ cut out for this." Scott says, apprehensive. His shoulders are tensed, and Shepard can almost feel the way he's holding himself together. Shepard just looks at him, chewing words over and over, but nothing quite sticks together long enough to form a sentence. Not one that Scott needed to hear, anyway.  
  
In truth, Shepard's feeling as out of place as Scott looks. It's like being in a place you used to know inside out, except now everything is just slightly to the left, just a notch out of place, just... not _quite_ right. The air is cold on his skin but he feels warm, an uncomfortable heat settling between the fabric of his clothes and his skin. Shepard absently runs a hand up his arm, fingers digging under the hem of his shirt sleeve while he debates on an answer for Scott.  
  
"No way to know unless you throw yourself in." Shepard surmises.  
  
"And if I can't get back out?" Scott looks at him, blue eyes seeking certainty. Shepard just smiles, warm and gentle, illuminated easily by the daylight flooding in.  
  
"You're not jumping in alone." Shepard reminds him, and Scott lets his hands fall from his head, meeting Shepard's gaze properly. He pushes himself up off the rail with a heavy sigh, letting the last of his worries subside.   
  
"Taking the bridge sounds so... _serious_." Scott huffs, eyes fixed on the doors ahead.   
  
"It's not that bad." Shepard reassures him, half-turning to face him, one hand still on the rail.  
  
"Sure, Commander-material speaking." Scott rolls his eyes, raising a pointed eyebrow at Shepard who only smiles.  
  
"Hey, I've got your back."   
  
"Literally. Gonna be weird seeing someone else on the bridge, huh?"   
  
"Maybe. But I'm not dismissing the view."   
  
Scott's face finally cracks, a smile curving along his lips as he groans audibly, hand rubbing across his face at Shepard's line, tips of his ears turning pink in the light.   
  
"You definitely haven't changed." Scott regards him with a warmth that sinks straight to Shepard's bones, engulfing him in a moment. It's the closest he's felt to home since waking up.  
  
"Neither have you." Shepard replies simply. And he means it.


	17. Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the 40k mark! I never thought I'd be making these kind of strides for any piece of work, let alone for Shepard/Ryder. I'm so glad to see so many of you love the pairing as much as I do, and I'm really looking forward to getting rid of that damn 'eventual' tag, trust me.
> 
> shameless plug here, but if you're at all interested in finding out more about my boys, I post a lot over on my tumblr: http://commandcrshepard.tumblr.com/ and I'd love to see a few of you there, if you're around!

The bridge of the Tempest is the one thing that doesn't remind Shepard at all of the Normandy. It's open, vast, the frontier of exploration, the first eyes on the rest of the galaxy. Shepard feels wildly unsafe, the curve of the hull windows creating a seamless expanse of... well, whatever might be out there. Shepard finds the sight disconcerting, and he's not keen on sticking around. He's only here for Scott, right now, and he's listening to Kallo direct him on the console controls.  
  
"Think he'll be alright?" Liam's voice sits on his peripheral, warm and steady. Shepard follows the voice, finding Liam and Cora emerging through the bridge doors, and he greets them with a quiet smile, not quite reaching his eyes. Liam beams back at him.  
  
"He'll be fine." Shepard says to them, leaning casually against the door to the airlock. Liam wanders over, hands on his hips as he regards Kallo and Scott discussing the nav interface.  
  
"Well, if anyone can vouch for him, you can." Cora sighs quietly, throwing a glance their way with a tired smile.  
  
"Yeah. You know him. Trust him? That's good enough for me." Liam shrugs, glancing back at Shepard momentarily. Shepard just nods, a wordless confirmation of Liam's assumptions.  
  
"Besides, Commander Shepard's on our ship, right?" Liam adds with an audacious grin that Shepard chuckles at, despite it all. Sure. He's Commander Shepard. That doesn't just disappear, it's still part of him. Liam says it so simply, but Shepard finds a certain kind of comfort in his confidence. Even Cora smiles his way at that before she turns her attention to Scott, who's waiting at the console, hands moving over a holo of Eos. Their destination.  
  
The door behind them whirs open again, and Vetra steps through.  
  
"Everything's secure, if you're ready..." She says, a passing glance to Cora before she sets her sights on Scott, who turns to face them.  
  
"Hah. Is _anyone_ ready for something this big?" Liam glances around the room, voice a little quieter than usual, the first waver to his confidence that Shepard's noticed.  
  
"Hey, we signed on for the big stuff when we came to Andromeda." Scott directs to Liam, the faintest of smiles playing at his mouth, and he steps to the side when Kallo threads his way through the group, back to his pilot seat. Liam concedes the point with a nod and a timid laugh, watching as Cora pulls up her omnitool.  
  
"Alright. Command access is transferring successfully." She looks at Scott, and drops her arm again, holo flickering out as her hands clasp behind her back. Habit, Shepard supposes. Definitely a military background. He's reminded of the conversation in SAM node, of how SAM's integration into Scott had stumped everyone and firmly knocked Cora out of her Pathfinder role, and he makes a note to keep an eye on the brewing situation. It's not her fault at all, but Shepard gets the feeling she harbours a little bit of resentment, regardless.  
  
"Uhm, science and monitoring stations look fine. Lexi's reporting in--" Suvi's voice cuts across the room, pulling Shepard from his mental checklist for a second.  
  
"Helm is green. Gil reports the drive core is online." Kallo pipes up on the other side. Shepard recognizes the familiar roll-call of systems and check-ins with a quiet fondness, glad of some familiar ground.  
  
Scott turns back to the viewing windows, carefully illuminated by the artificial daylight of the Nexus. Shepard wonders what he's thinking.  
  
"This is it, Ryder. The Tempest is yours, unless you've got anything to say for the log?" Cora brings it back to the bridge, eyes fixed on Scott, who glances over his shoulder with a sharp grin, bright eyes glinting in the daylight.  
  
"We've beaten the odds before. We'll beat them again." He says, with a confidence that makes Shepard feel like he's back on Arcturus, his eyes on the relay with Scott at his side. Things made sense, back then. He supposes that's the only difference, this time round.  
  
Not that it matters.  
  
"You know it, I know it. So let's get out there and show 'em what we got."  
  


* * *

  
Shepard leaves before he has to watch the darkness of space surround the Tempest. Even the idea makes his skin crawl in a way it never did before. It's pissing him off, quiet anger mixing with the cold edge of panic setting in as he slides down the ladder to the lower deck. The rush of cool metal against his palms does little to distract him. He takes a few moments, head leaning against one of the rungs, cold against his flushed skin for a second before he pulls away, looking up at the labelled doors. _Restroom. Gallery. Crew Quarters._ Shepard can feel how dizzy he is from exhaustion, how heavy his body feels when he walks the few steps to the crew quarters, but before he can step in through the doors, he hears his name from behind him.  
  
"Shepard?" Lexi's standing in the medbay doorway, a folder in one arm, expression tight as she regards him. _Assessing_ him. Shepard grimaces as his implant flares at his spine, and his hand reaches instinctively to the back of his neck.  
  
"Is everything okay?" She asks, voice cool in the sudden haze of his exhaustion. Shepard just stands there lamely with a blank stare in Lexi's direction, and before he realizes it, she's sitting him down in the medbay.  
  
"SAM, run a basic diagnostic." Lexi directs the AI, who chimes across the room in comfortable blue tones, gentle between Shepard's strained eyes. She potters around, dropping the file onto a worktop before she turns back to Shepard.  
  
"How long have you been awake?" She asks him, her tone firmer now that she's seen the problem. Shepard can barely hear her over the way his blood is rushing past his ears, heart pounding loudly, drowning out everything else.  
  
"SAM?" Lexi turns to the AI when she gets no reply from Shepard. The AI responds a few moments later, sending another wave of cooling words over Shepard's skin.  
  
"He has been awake for approximately thirty-six hours with no significant periods of rest, Doctor T'Perro."  
  
Lexi almost chides him, Shepard can just see the way her eyes flinch with concern and she holds her tongue before she lets anything slip.  
  
"Additionally, he has not eaten since being taken out of stasis."  
  
Lexi flinches again. Shepard just sighs heavily.  
  
"And I count only two occasions where he has recorded any intake of nutrients, namely: trimethylxanthine."  
  
"Two cups of coffee. Right. Thanks, SAM." Lexi doesn't sound at all pleased. Shepard just grimaces and waits for the onslaught, stomach churning uncomfortably as a wave of hunger-induced nausea passes. Lexi doesn't say anything, she only disappears out of Shepard's line of sight, the only signs of her presence in the form of clattering equipment somewhere on the edge of the room. Shepard groans, lying back on the cot, head hitting the metal with a dull thud. His heart is pounding still, but the rushing has stopped, settling into something deeper instead, twisting and coiling in the spaces between his bones.  
  
The grating of the metal doors doesn't help.  
  
"Hey-- Oh, for God's sake." _Scott_. What's he doing down here? Cade doesn't bother to look, instead fixing his eyes on the stark white ceiling.  
  
"You really need to stop showing up in med bays when I want to talk to my doctor." Scott's voice draws closer, until Shepard can see him peering down, slowly moving into his line of sight. The anxiety coiling under his skin loosens a little, and he regains some semblance of feeling in his hands. Shepard manages a thin smile. Scott only looks more worried.  
  
"What's the matter with him now?" Scott glances over his shoulder, at Lexi, presumably, but Shepard isn't overly bothered right now. He just wants to sleep.  
  
"No food, no sleep, stress and a flaring biotic implant. Plus the torn ligament in his shoulder, which he really needs to be _resting_." Lexi's voice peters over, and Shepard resists the urge to roll his eyes, if only to save himself the pain, head now thumping with a dull ache.  
  
"He is also exhibiting signs of another anxiety attack, Dr T'Perro." SAM chirps helpfully, and it's the one of the few times Shepard wishes the AI would _stop talking_. Scott hovers closer, and Shepard can feel his warmth where his own hand lies on the edge of the cot, fingers flexing around the curve of metal and back again.  
  
"And _that_ , we do need to discuss." Lexi hums suspiciously, and Shepard knows he isn't getting out of this one. Scott looks back at him, his blue eyes made brighter by the light of the room, and Shepard finds himself wanting to get lost in them all over again. He refrains, instead reaching a hand to rub his face tiredly, stifling a yawn that creeps up on him.  
  
"Told you already, doc," Shepard says through his yawn, "S'nothing to worry about." his words are utterly unconvincing, even more so to Scott, who seems even closer still.  
  
"Still getting them, huh?" Scott voices quietly, once Lexi's back is turned. They both know she's listening, but it doesn't faze them. It's in a profound show of trust that Shepard even acknowledges the question with a nod, raking a hand through his short hair, in dire need of a shower. That'd have to wait until he could stand without feeling like the slightest breeze could bowl him over.  
  
"Anything I can do?" Scott asks, and the gesture pulls at something lodged deep in Shepard's chest. Right now, it hurts more than it helps.  
  
"You have more than enough to worry about." Shepard points out, his words muddied with sleep.  
  
"Maybe, but I can't help it." Scott admits, pink tinging his ears again. Shepard understands his meaning, and manages another faint smile in Scott's direction. He's always been a worrier.  
  
"Sorry to interrupt, boys," Lexi sighs, turning to them once again, and her smile is kind this time, "But I really need to insist on Shepard getting some rest."  
  
"Right, yeah." Scott clears his throat, looking at Lexi, expression sheepish as he tries to find his reason for being here in the first place. "I just stopped by to check in, really. Nothing serious."  
  
"Well, I appreciate it, Scott," Lexi sighs, "But we're not even an hour into departure and I already have a patient."  
  
Scott laughs at that, the sound rich and inviting as it bounces off the walls. Shepard lets his eyes slide shut, relishing the sound as long as he can. It helps ease some of the brittle anxiety lingering on his skin.  
  
"Yeah, I wouldn't hold your breath with this one." Scott quips, turning to leave. He spares a glance at Shepard before he does, though. "I'll kick your ass if you're not hitting Eos with me."  
  
Shepard chuckles weakly, rubbing at his forehead with the back of his hand.  
  
" _If_ he's fit for duty, Scott." Lexi makes a pointed clarification, arms folded tightly. Scott relents, and takes his leave, the medbay doors sliding shut behind his retreating footsteps as mentions something about checking out his quarters.  
  
A heavy silence lingers in the room after he's gone, and Shepard cracks open his eyes, slowly, the white lights blinding, headache blooming through his skull even louder.  
  
"You're worried about him." Lexi's voice carries over, just out of sight, and Shepard realizes it's not a question. He gives a noncommittal grunt in response, feeling as his breathing evens out with SAM's quiet help.  
  
Another sigh emanates from across the room.  
  
"Whether you like it or not, it's my job to take care of this crew. _You_ included. That's anything from making sure you eat, to understanding why you're struggling."  
  
Shepard acquiesces the point, teeth dragging over his lower lip in mild annoyance. He still smarts at the idea of being called up on it, though.  
  
"You all had plenty of prep for this, none of you just... _woke up_ here." Shepard turns his head to find Lexi watching him with a quiet, studious glare. She nods, her arms unfolding as she reaches for a datapad. "You had... time to process it. To understand the kind of decision you were making. To accept what you might be leaving behind."  
  
Lexi's hands are a blur as they flurry across the holoscreen, information being tapped out in precise points.  
  
Shepard debates his next words, rolling the syllables across his teeth, finding their form. There's a quiet sting in his chest, growing louder with every line that Lexi types out.  
  
"You had a _choice_."  
  
Lexi's fingers stop dead, mid-sentence. She looks over the datapad at Shepard, who's watching her with an unreadable expression. Lowering the tablet slowly, her gaze turns into something closer to pity than anything else Shepard knows, and it makes him burn with a quiet anger.  
  
He doesn't want pity. He doesn't need it.  
  
He wants answers. An explanation.  
  
A reason.  
  
"And I don't _care_ how many people tell me they don't expect anything from me, it's not true. Not for me, because I'm still _Commander Shepard_. I'm still--" Shepard's glare grows intense, gold burning with a new flame, "I'm still in that headspace, you know? I'm still-- the last thing I remember is watching the Normandy get torn to shreds. I don't know if my crew ever made it. I don't know how many I didn't save. I don't know how that story ends."  
  
Lexi just closes her eyes, realization settling over her sharp features. She exhales slowly, and when her eyes open again, they land on Shepard with understanding instead of pity.  
  
"And the rest of us do." Lexi breathes, setting her datapad aside and wringing her hands together, contrite in her conclusion.  
  
"One of you, more than anyone." Shepard admits candidly, his tone careful and quiet. Lexi regards him with a softer expression, eyes the kindest they've ever been. If Shepard wasn't so exhausted, he might have felt a little humbled.  
  
"Scott." She fills in the empty space. It makes sense. An awful, dangerously tragic kind of sense. Lexi just swallows, her words sticking in her throat when she tries to think of something to say. In the end, she settles for a quiet murmur of _"I'll let you rest."_ before she turns away, the lights growing dim in the medbay with a flicker of her omnitool.  
  
Shepard only manages a sad smile before he turns his eyes back on the empty ceiling, letting sleep take him.


	18. Memory

It's cold when he wakes. Shepard's bones ache with a quiet hunger for warmth, but he takes his time, eyes opening to a dark room. They run along the lines in the wall, the angles of precise construction, finding no fault or flaw in his surroundings. It unsettles him in a way he can't really understand, not quite yet -- it only sits on his shoulders like another cold chain. His mouth is dry as he inhales slowly, eyes sore with a heavy, dreamless sleep. Shepard tries sitting up, hands bracing as he pushes himself to sit, casting a cursory glance over the now-empty medbay. Fragmented memory tells him why he's here, and he glances over at Lexi's abandoned desk, where a low light still flickers.  
  
A datapad. Shepard blinks, sleep falling from his shoulders while he considers the dim holoscreen.  
  
Lexi doesn't do things without reason; she's smart enough to know not to leave a datapad open on her desk. Her mistake if it's unintentional, Shepard thinks, and he takes the invitation to look. He swings his legs off the cot, feeling better for having his feet on firm ground, and pushes himself off into an unsteady walk across the room. The lines across the low light quiver into view, forming words that Shepard has to blink a few times to read properly.  
  
_Shepard -- I've asked SAM to wake you, can't let you sleep for too long without food in you. You won't be able to stomach much solid stuff for a few days while cryo wears off, so the Initiative developed a nutrient paste for our colonists. Take your time, water's running hot for showers. - Lexi_  
  
Paste. Right. Shepard's lip quirks into a distasteful grimace, finding a tub of the stuff placed nearby. He picks it up, feeling the way his stomach growls, empty and tight. There's nothing _remotely_ appetizing about the grey mush he finds when he screws open the top. It doesn't even smell of anything. Finding a small plastic tab attached to the lid, Shepard peels it off, using it to scoop a lump of the grey paste onto the end, holding it up to eye level with an expression of pure revulsion.  
  
"Can't be _that_ bad." Shepard mumbles, voice cracking with the edge of sleep. He isn't convinced at all.  
  
Even less so when he tries it. The paste is bland and the texture is vile, stretchy and rubbery, sticking to his teeth as he chews morosely, silently cursing Lexi for even convincing him to eat it. They have to have better stuff than this, right? Shepard swallows with considerable effort, the paste clinging to his tongue.  
  
"This is _fucking_ vile." Shepard manages to say, holding up the tub as if it offends him by simply existing.  
  
Regardless, the soldier in him knows he needs to eat. He's brazenly reminded of the too-many questionable meals he's dealt with over the years, and he manages to take a few more scoops, hunger starting to fade, the gnawing at his stomach soon replaced with a dull fullness. Shepard's just glad he can put the damn thing away. Setting the tub back on the desk, he turns his attention to the rest of him. His shoulder is burning again, painkillers wearing off slowly. He idly wonders whether a shower would ease the pain, and his feet take him to the medbay door, his mind still playing catch-up with the rest of him.  
  
The soft whir of the doors isn't as jarring, now that his headache is gone. Shepard rubs the back of his neck, a habit, fingers brushing over the implant at the top of his spine with careful movements. He supposes it's cooled down plenty by now, and he crosses the walkway to the crew quarters.  
  
"Shepard, you will find a crate of personal belongings in the storage unit." SAM's cool voice flickers between his eyes, and Shepard glances up.  
  
"I didn't exactly bring anything back from the dead, SAM." Shepard replies slowly, words dripping with thinly-veiled contempt. He hasn't forgotten his conversation with Lexi, and now the need for answers is growing louder, twisting around a hardened heart.  
  
"Provisions were made for your arrival." SAM chimes, level voice filling the empty room as Shepard steps in, absently wondering where the rest of the crew had got to.  
  
"Provisions?" Shepard frowns, eyes landing on a stack of shelves where crates were labelled with the names of the crew, including his own.  
  
"Strict limits were observed for those bringing personal items. In your case, this space was allocated to clothing and firearms."  
  
"Who ordered it?"  
  
"Unknown. There is a block in my memory."  
  
Shepard balks at the words, hands freezing over his crate as he looks back up, as if SAM is there. Shepard knows that isn't the case, but he needs a place to direct his voice. It doesn't make sense to him otherwise.  
  
"Memory blocks? On an AI?" Shepard muses out loud, suspicion evident in his narrowed eyes. Blocks are manual, Shepard understands that much -- _somebody_ put them there, with reason. Who? And why? What are they hiding? His hands curl around the edges of his crate, hauling it from the shelf with ease until his shoulder gives out and one end of the crate drops, yanking it fully out of his grip. It lands with a ringing thud, interspersed with Shepard's violent string of curses as his shoulder flares up. He kneels harshly, bracing himself on the crate with his good arm while he sits out wave after wave of hot, sharp pain.  
  
"Do you need medical attention, Shepard?" SAM chirps, and Shepard just hisses, as if that's a good enough answer for SAM. Shepard's shortly interrupted by another familiar whir as the doors slide open again, and he looks up to find Scott striding in, eyes on a datapad in his hands.  
  
"Oh! You're awake." Scott stops short when he spots Shepard, hunched over a crate, clutching his shoulder with a face like thunder as he hisses something out at SAM. Scott might find the image hilarious, if it wasn't so obvious that Shepard's in serious pain. He steps closer with hurried movements, datapad discarded carelessly on a bunk as he passes. Kneeling down, he seeks out Shepard's gaze, trying to find the source of the problem.  
  
"Oh, hey, Scott." Shepard just about utters through gritted teeth, eyes landing on Scott's own blue, quiet and tense. He rubs at his shoulder, the pain beginning to subside, replaced with a chill that hums over his skin, growing in intensity when Scott moves closer.  
  
"Should I get Lexi?" Scott's brow buckles into a frown, eyes flitting from Shepard's hand to his eyes. Shepard just shakes his head, kicking the crate as he moves to sit down properly.  
  
"Nah, it's passing. Picked this up without thinking." Shepard explains shortly, and Scott's mouth opens on an understanding 'ah', lips curving into amusement as he realizes. Shepard just rolls his eyes, a comfortable warmth settling in again.  
  
"What's in here?" Scott's curiosity gets the better of him as he eyes up Shepard's crate, sealed, emblazoned with his name along the side. Shepard just gives a one-armed shrug.  
  
"Not a clue. It's not like I could have brought anything with me." Shepard sniffs, bitter annoyance shaping his words as the questions come back, snapping at his heels with every treacherous step he takes in Andromeda.  
  
"All my armour, this crate, everything that I have here -- it's all from a complete unknown." Shepard pulls one of the latches on the crate with a tired sigh, and Scott helps him with the second latch. They push the lid up and over, letting it clatter to the floor on the other side.  
  
"SAM can't track it?" Scott spares a sideways glance at Shepard, who's starting to root through the neatly folded casuals with a quiet intensity.  
  
"Memory blocks." Shepard says simply, hands finding purchase around the cold metal of a familiar gun. He pulls, upsetting the neat piles into disarray as he lays eyes on the rifle in his hands. Black casing, steel accents, a blood red N7 insignia in a perfect line across the stock. The weight is familiar, comforting, a violent reminder of his duty back in the Milky Way.  
  
"Wait-- blocks?" Scott interrupts Shepard's memory, and Shepard turns to him with a raised eyebrow, not missing the way his voice pitches. He knows something.  
  
"Yeah. Why?"  
  
_"Shit."_  
  
"Scott?"  
  
Scott just looks at him blankly, eyes darting between Shepard and the empty space behind him. He's thinking, trying to put something together. Shepard sets the Valkyrie rifle to one side, making a mental note to take a more thorough look later. Right now, Scott might be his best chance at the first of his answers, and he'll give him all the time he needs.  
  
"My dad put memory blocks on SAM. That's why I needed to see SAM about back on Hyperion." Scott voices, a feeble edge of worry eating at his words. Shepard inhales sharply, realizing the implication.  
  
It doesn't surprise him in the slightest that Alec Ryder might be involved in this.  
  
"The same blocks?" Shepard pushes.  
  
"I don't know," Scott sighs, a hand coming up to rub his forehead, as if to relieve the building tension, "I really don't know, Cade. But I have a feeling there's more to this than just... a new start."  
  
"They were running." Shepard states without room for doubt, eyes fixed on Scott.  
  
"From what?" Scott doesn't look convinced.  
  
"I don't know yet, but I know that the Initiative... this plan, it's all too _convenient_." Shepard shakes his head slowly, exhaling softly as he leans his head back against one of the bunks. He can feel Scott's eyes on him, painstakingly taking in every move. And Shepard finds it increasingly hard to concentrate, a warm desire in his chest fighting relentlessly against the cold, hard edge of doubt that smothers the rest of him. He swallows thickly when Scott moves closer, mirroring his pose in slow and certain movements. The burn of Scott's gaze leaves him, and Shepard looks absently at the crate lying at their feet, forgotten in their myriad of questions.  
  
"These blocks... they're triggered by eidetic flashpoints. I found one on Hyperion," Scott speaks after a few more moments, his voice soft along the harsh, metal lines of the room, "And SAM thinks they're tied to my progress as Pathfinder, so..."  
  
"So, we find them." Shepard says, a bright confidence in his own voice. Scott notices, eyes back on Shepard.  
  
_"We?"_  
  
"Yeah. Call me selfish, but I want to know as much as you do." Shepard admits with a wry smile.  
  
"And it's nothing at all to do with the fact that, say, somebody's worried about me?" Scott glances at his own hands as he speaks, fingers twisting and pulling together. He's nervous. Shepard has to resist the urge to laugh, the sound splintering in his mouth with an incredulous scoff instead.  
  
"Lexi ratted me out, huh?"  
  
"Yeah. I _may_ have persuaded her."  
  
He sees a flash of concern etch itself into the quirk of Scott's mouth, but it disappears as quickly as it showed. Shepard doesn't have a defense, no careful derail in place, no safety net to stop him from falling when he finally slips. And he knows Scott deserves honesty from him, even more so in light of their conversation. He has enough secrets to dig out without Shepard adding to the growing pile.  
  
"Scott, it's really no secret that I care about you." He confesses quietly, looking back at Scott.  
  
"Then why don't you _do_ something about it?" Scott's eyes are lit with a challenge, and Shepard so badly wants to take it, "Why all this stupid pandering? The tip-toeing around?"  
  
Shepard can't help himself. He laughs this time, but the sound isn't as warm as it used to be. It ricochets off the walls, brittle in its shape, and Scott grows quiet.  
  
"Because Andromeda needs you far more than I do." Shepard's words are careful, but brutally honest in their design. He sees the way Scott almost recoils, a flinch to his stare that gives him away, and in turn, lands a solid blow to something lodged deep in Shepard's chest.  
  
It hurts.


	19. Sequence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another flashback style chapter for you guys. The usual: indented + italics = flashback, normal text = present.

"So-- _what?_ " Scott blinks, his words coming out in harsh, sharp breaths as he tries to find a foothold in Shepard's words. They don't make sense. They don't fit together, there's nothing behind them. Shepard's voice sounds wrong around the syllables, and Scott can't grasp it.  
  
 _Andromeda needs you far more than I do._  
  
Scott can feel the way his anger bubbles up, hot under his skin, twisting around his heart in cruel lines. He watches Shepard, trying to find the slightest sign of what he's really trying to say, but there's nothing. A cold, blank slate. That hurts him more than anything.  
  
"Shepard?" Scott hisses, sitting upright, half-turned to face the man next to him. "You can't say you care about me and then drop that bullshit right after. That's _not_ okay."  
  
There's a flash of something in Shepard's eyes. _Something_. Scott doesn't recognize it, but it's gone when he looks again, desperately trying to find it.   
  
"Andromeda needs me-- what about _me_? What about what _I_ need, Cade?" Scott shoves Shepard's belongings crate out of the way with rough hands, moving so he can sit in front of him, forcing him to look. Shepard doesn't flinch, he just stares dead ahead, taking the hit of every one of Scott's laced words without retaliation, and Scott _hates_ it.  
  
Hates it, until Shepard finally opens his mouth to speak.  
  
"Scott, I never said you were doing this alone--"   
  
Scott cuts him off, blue eyes raging as he moves closer.   
  
"Well, it fucking _feels_ like it!" he hisses, and part of him wonders if he's being entirely irrational about this. Scott feels the way his stomach churns with anxiety, heart clenching every time Shepard speaks, fingers constantly reaching for him only to drop at the last moment for fear of what might happen next. For them, it hasn't been two days in Andromeda; it's been four _years_ in the Milky Way, two spent grieving in a way Scott never understood until he saw Shepard again. _He_ made it right. He made everything settle into place, into lines and planes that Scott could follow and understand, like roaming hands on flushed skin of a body that he knows so well.  
  
He's not angry at Shepard, Scott knows that. He's angry because he's never felt so _alone_. With Dad gone, and Sara in some hellish coma on the Hyperion, Scott doesn't have anyone to turn to, nobody who knows him.  
  
Nobody who knows him, like Shepard.   
  
And Shepard's words have all but dug up a wall between them, cold and hard and unforgiving, and painfully isolating.  
  
"I'm sorry." Shepard's words are stark and brittle in the dim light of the room, and Scott feels the hard lines around his heart starting to come loose. Scott can see the way Shepard's eyes are narrowed just so slightly, the thin line of his mouth as he pulls his bottom lip through his teeth, breathing slow and steady.   


>   
>  _The first time Scott sees him, he's in trouble. There's a marine on the ground, nose bleeding from where Scott's decked him, not two seconds ago. His hand is stinging, curled into a fist at his side. Every day on Arcturus up until now has been hell, disciplinary after disciplinary, and he's half convinced the only reason they keep him around is because Alec Ryder isn't a name they want to mess with._
> 
> _He's waiting for the inevitable reprimand when the man stops in front of him, and the first few words don't make a dent. Scott's eyes are closed, face cast downwards. The yelling subsides, and he feels a warm hand on his shoulder. When he opens his eyes again, all he sees is gold staring back at him._
> 
> _"Are you okay?"_   
> 

  
Shepard isn't saying anything else, even as Scott shifts closer, eyes daring him to try. He rolls the words around his tongue and the taste is bitter. Scott grimaces quietly, shaking his head in slow incredulity.

"There's nobody else out here that knows me like you do." Scott admits softly, his ire growing muted as he gives himself a chance to dwell in memory. He sees Shepard's hands, fidgeting at his sides, fingers tapping out a hushed rhythm on the metal floor. He's nervous. Scott looks back up at him, eyes sympathetic instead of challenging.

"And you're the only one who knows me at all." Shepard acquiesces, tilting his head slightly. His brow softens, the sharp lines of doubt gone, replaced with something Scott can't pinpoint.  


>   
>  _Shepard. Scott knows the name, knows the stories, but he knows something else too. Shepard isn't the coldhearted butcher of Torfan, or the N7 with a jaded past. He's not so cruel and callous like so many reports make him out to be._
> 
> _Scott learns all this, one stumbling, faltering step at a time. In Shepard's engineering bay on Arcturus, one night. In the crew bar, the next. Nights in sequence turn into weeks of careful, idle chatter; a twisted lens into each others' lives._
> 
> _And then, one night in particular, Scott remembers watching the Arcturus relay through the observation deck. Quiet. Deserted. Except for the two of them. A hazy blue film cast across their eyes, words made softer by the silence of the deck. Scott has never seen Shepard in such a quiet place, and it bothers him, not knowing why._
> 
> _"Are you okay?"_   
> 

  
"I'm sorry I went off, I just--" Scott stumbles over his words, taking shape only as they fall from his lips, "We never got to say where we were, you know? What we were."

"I know." Shepard replies gently, "We never had much of a chance. And... truth be told, I don't think either of us really knew, either."

Scott hates it when Shepard's right. He exhales sharply, mouth twisting into a grim smile.

"And we don't know any better now, huh?" he says, each word digging cold fingers underneath his fear and pulling until it tears away from his skin, leaving him exposed.

"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean-- Look, Scott, I only said that because I don't want you to have anything holding you back from being a Pathfinder. That's all." Shepard explains, and Scott just listens to every word in contemplative silence, chewing his bottom lip.

"Why would you hold me back?" Scott insists, and he's close enough now to feel how warm Shepard is in the cold room.

"These... triggers, these memories that you have to find? We don't know what's out there. Don't know what's in them. Suppose we find something that forces a conflict of interests?"

"Then we deal with it. What's the problem?" Scott pushes, relentless.

"Oh, Scott. I wish I had your confidence." Shepard chuckles quietly, the sound lacking in his usual humour, and it sounds wrong to Scott's ears.

"Cade, we have literally nothing left to lose."  


>   
>  _Two months later, Scott slips up._
> 
> _It's a fleeting moment, in Shepard's engineering bay. They're out of hours, the place should be locked down but neither of them can sleep. Hushed whispers across metal plates as they work on a retrofitted Mako, until Shepard drops a wrench. The clatter is shrill and unforgivably loud._
> 
> _"Shit."_
> 
> _Scott resists the urge to laugh, but his ears pick up the sharp sound of footsteps outside their hangar door, and he leaps to his feet as Shepard runs past him, and he feels the warmth of Shepard's hand closing around his own. Shepard pulls them hurriedly in between stacked crates, bodies pressed close together in the tight space, and Scott's mouth runs dry as he sucks in a quiet gasp._
> 
> _They wait._
> 
> _The footsteps disappear, but neither of them move, both there with bated breath and wicked smiles. Shepard just looks at Scott, and Scott doesn't think any longer._
> 
> _His lips are warm on Scott's own, the heavy taste of whiskey and metal filling Scott's senses while his world is in whiteout. Scott feels strong hands at his shoulders, moving slowly until they cradle his face, carefully breaking their kiss. He sees that familiar gold again._
> 
> _"Are you okay with thi--"_
> 
> _"Yes."_   
> 

  
Shepard just fiddles idly with a thread on his trousers for a moment, not wanting to meet Scott's gaze. Scott can feel his patience running thin, uncomfortable in his chest where his heart thumps brazenly, on the brink of something that Scott has wanted for years.

"Okay. We have nothing left to lose, I get that." Shepard eventually speaks, words deliberate in their slowness, a way for him to lay out his thoughts clearly, "But on Arcturus, we knew we were running out of time."

Scott thinks he understands.

"Then we take it day by day." Scott offers, tilting his head with a quiet smile, daring to hope. Shepard regards him with a contemplative stare, drawing out the seconds between them. Scott knows their orbit is changing, altered in a way that can't go back, but instead of running on a collision course, they have a chance of something else now.

Something bigger.

"Yeah. Okay. Day by day, I can deal with." Shepard concedes, "But I need to know I have my best friend back before anything else."

"Never went anywhere." Scott shrugs, beaming. A new warmth settles over him in that instant, twisting around his limbs and curling around his chest, a familiar light seeping in. Shepard sighs, head leaning back against the bunk, a weight falling off his shoulders as he allows himself to live in the moment for a while. Long enough to feel like he has something.

But something isn't quite right. Scott knows Shepard, and he knows the way his mouth isn't quite the smile it should be. There's something else there. And Scott dares to find it, his hand reaching up to turn Shepard's eyes on him. His fingers curl around the familiar line of his jaw, stubble scratching at his smooth fingers. He almost expects Shepard to pull away. He doesn't. Scott's heart skitters when Shepard leans into his touch, just so slightly, and Scott can feel his cheek pulling under his hand with a slight, sad smile.

"I really am sorry, Scott. I didn't think. I didn't realize saying what I did would hurt you like that." Shepard tells him, sincerity in every word, and Scott appreciates it.

"Told you I was selfish." Shepard adds, smile curving into something brighter, something wicked, and Scott laughs lowly, shaking his head.

"You're not selfish, Cade," Scott hums quietly as his laughter subsides, thumb brushing idly along the line of his chin, "Just... _stubborn_."

Shepard just watches Scott for a moment, reading every expression he can find. Scott tries not to give everything away, but in Shepard's company, he finds that task increasingly difficult. Besides, it's not like he has much left to hide.

"One more thing, then." Scott sighs, and Shepard nods for him to continue. "Are _we_ okay?"

The smile he gets in return is answer enough.


	20. Scar Tissue

After rooting through the rest of his crate with Scott, they find nothing of interest, and decide to shelve the big questions for rest of the day. Shepard rolls his neck, feeling the tightness of his shoulder starting to sting again, and he decides a shower is in order.  
  
"We are on approach to Eos, Pathfinder." SAM chimes through the room, and Scott kicks the empty crate under Shepard's bunk before he turns around, hands resting idly on his hips as he regards SAM's statement.  
  
"How long?" Shepard asks, before Scott can say anything.   
  
"Approximately one hour, Shepard." SAM confirms, and Shepard nods, rooting for a fresh set of clothes in the pile at the foot of his bunk. Scott huffs, stretching out with a quiet groan as his shoulders pull with a satisfying pop. Shepard grimaces, shoving Scott playfully as he passes, and Scott's quiet laughter follows him.  
  
"I need a shower, but I'll be ready for Eos." Shepard throws over his shoulder, "If Lexi doesn't put a leash on me."   
  
Scott rolls his eyes, shaking his head at Shepard's comment.  
  
"She's just looking out for you." Scott throws back, shooting him a pointed glance, but Shepard only smirks as he disappears into the showers, the door whirring shut behind him. Scott sighs, rubbing his face tiredly, feeling as the last of their tense conversation disappears, the air filled with a quiet hope instead.  
  
Turning his focus to Eos, Scott makes his way up to the research station, finding Lexi, Cora and Liam mingling around in their own conversation.  
  
"Ey, Ryder. Where have you been?" Liam calls over the console, peeking through the holo of an armour schematic that's currently visible. His hand flits across a few buttons, and the holo disappears, allowing Scott to see Liam clearly.  
  
"Did I miss anything?" Scott asks, diverting the question as he walks closer, peering down at the list of information on one of the holoscreens. It means nothing right now, but he's sure he'll find some context for it somewhere.   
  
"Nah, just thinking about Eos. Is Shepard hitting ground with us?" Liam's hopeful question almost makes Scott laugh, but he refrains and gives a one-armed shrug, looking over at Lexi.  
  
"Depends if the doc will let him off." Scott half-smiles, a spark to his eye as Lexi rolls her eyes back at him with a weary sigh.  
  
"Shepard is _injured_ , Ryder." Lexi points out, and Cora's quiet laugh joins the conversation. Scott finds her disappearing into the biolab behind him with an amused glance in Scott's direction, and he can feel his ears burning.  
  
"Sure, but we're not fighting, right? Just exploring." Scott counters, turning back to Lexi, and Liam chirps up.  
  
"Yeah, exactly. Plus, he's got experience. Could do with that out there."   
  
Lexi looks like she wants to space them both out of the airlock for a brief second before she schools her expression into something more neutral.   
  
"Look, he's not under any obligation to follow orders on this ship, given that he's not even operating within Initiative parameters," Lexi folds her arms, fixing them both with pointed glances in turn, "So while my suggestion as the ship's physician is for him to remain onboard, I _technically_ can't stop him."  
  
"But you're gonna be mad, right?" Scott snickers, absently moving a hand over the console in front of him, finding a list of weapon schematics.   
  
" _Stressed_. Not mad." Lexi corrects, but the way she looks at Scott tells him that she's relenting, if only for his benefit. He gives her a bright smile, and she just shakes her head before she turns back to the monitoring station behind her.   
  


* * *

  
Shepard instantly feels relaxed as the hot water hits his skin, washing away the troubles of the past two days with ease. He braces himself against the shower wall with his good arm, letting the water rush over his burning shoulder, untangling every tiny knot of discomfort along the muscle there.   
  
His conversation with Scott has swept aside more worries than he even realized he was harbouring, and the thought is comforting. His heart sits a little lighter in his chest now that he can put one foot ahead without leaving the rest of him in the mire of an unreachable past.  
  
Raking a hand through wet hair, he scrubs at his scalp, eyes screwed shut against the hot stream of water. It's only when he reaches up that he feels a slight pull along his ribs that makes him investigate, blinking against the current. He sees stark, red lines, glowing faintly along the curve of muscle and sinew, and they pull when he moves. Shepard blinks twice in quick succession, as if they'll disappear.  
  
They don't.  
  
Grimacing, he pulls gently at the marks, feeling the slight indents lying under his skin. His stomach twists into an uncomfortable knot as he explores, fingers finding more of these red lines on his body, legs, arms -- all over, all forming some complicated network of something Shepard doesn't understand.   
  
It feels artificial, and in a way, he knows it is.   
  
And, in a way, he hates it.  
  
Shepard growls, slamming the water off after he finishes up his shower quickly, grabbing a towel from a nearby shelf. He dries off roughly, tucking the towel around his waist when he finds a mirror, fingers curling around the washbasin cabinet below it. The lines are much starker now out of the way of the water, and they make Shepard's chest grow tight with harsh breaths.   
  
He knew that dying had to come with some unpleasant details, but reading the words on Lexi's datapad hadn't done much outside of painting some horribly skewed picture in his head of how he must have looked. But these scars? They paint a much clearer picture, lined in red and ugly metal, twisted into his shape by brute force. The science of Lazarus isn't a pretty sight, and it only grows more contorted the longer Shepard looks.  
  
A bang on the door drags Shepard away from the mirror, heart pounding almost in time with the knocks.  
  
"Cade? Lexi wants to do a prelim check before we head out." It's Scott, and Shepard exhales slowly, trying to quell his buzzing nerves.   
  
"I'll be two minutes." Shepard informs him, raising his voice just loud enough to be heard through the door. He hears the rustle of clothes against metal as Scott moves, and he thinks he's safe to turn back to the mirror.  
  
"God. This is fucking _bad_." Shepard groans, a hand fisting in his hair as he regards the grisly lines pulling his skin. Seeing it is making it real, and Shepard's skin crawls when he thinks of the procedures they must have pulled on him.   
  
He was neat on a slab. Completely at their mercy.  
  
"Are you okay?"   
  
Shepard's blood runs cold as Scott's voice filters through the door again, and he snaps his head up to look, to make sure the door is locked. There's no sense in hiding this from Scott. Swallowing thickly, Shepard pushes himself up from the basin, away from the mirror, and over to the door.  
  
"I-- No. I'm not." Shepard admits, back hitting the cold metal, not unlocking the door just yet.   
  
"Why? What's wrong?" Scott sounds worried, and it plays at the uncomfortable knot in his gut.   
  
"I didn't think much about Cerberus bringing me back, never had reason to, but..." Shepard glances down at the hard lines of his torso, latticed along the sides with a red that he hates, "This is _brutal_."  
  
"Can I--" Scott's about to ask, and Shepard just hits the lock, pushing himself off the door and turning his back to the sound of it opening, and to the footsteps walking in.  
  
 _"Shit."_   
  
Shepard's half expecting Scott's response, but the word still stings, settling along the lines of his scars. Turning, Shepard finds Scott staring, mouth hung open on something he can't say, eyes wide.  
  
"This is more than just a few broken bones and pulverized organs, right?" Shepard sighs, arms out in a listless shrug. Scott crosses the space between them, a hand absently reaching, as if he needed physical touch to believe them. He stops short when he realizes what he's doing, looking up at Shepard.  
  
"Are they even--"  
  
"They're pretty fucking real." Shepard hisses, a hand curling around Scott's wrist and pulling so that cold fingers land over a colder scar on his abdomen. Scott freezes, until Shepard's hand falls from his wrist slowly, and Scott can feel every rise and fall of his breathing, the way his skin pulls tight across scar tissue that looks so... alien. Red. Painful.  
  
"This doesn't hurt?" Scott asks, warily, fingers lightly dragging along his tanned skin. Shepard's breathing hitches as he remembers the touch, but he shakes his head, brow pulling into a slight frown.  
  
"Just feels... strange. Like it's not part of me." Shepard tries to explain, but his eyes are keenly watching the way Scott's fingers move, following the curve of a muscle around to another red line, wrist brushing the towel enough to make Shepard bite down hard on his lower lip. He recovers with a sharp intake of breath, dragging his mind back to the scars that Scott is following.   
  
Or, he's meant to be. Shepard doesn't doubt that he's roaming with deliberate intentions, and it winds him up like nothing else. Any other time, Shepard would let him.  
  
"It is, though." Scott counters, tilting his head as he watches Shepard following the line of his fingers. "It's all you."   
  
He's right. It's all him. His body. His mind. Scott knows him more than anyone. Shepard hears the way Scott's voice drops between them, and he looks back up slowly, eyes traveling cruelly over Scott's lips instead of heading straight to meet his gaze. Shepard knows they're pushing it, careful steps towards a place they aren't ready to go, not yet.  
  
"I should hope so." He murmurs quietly, making every effort to keep his voice level and indifferent.  
  
Scott senses the way Shepard seems to distance himself in an instant, and his hand falls, brushing Shepard's waistline with a quiet sigh as he steps back, the slightest tinge of pink to his cheeks that almost makes Shepard smile. Scott notices the quirk to his lip with a small smile of his own.  
  
"Yeah, so, uh--" Scott clears his throat, almost bumping into a locker bench as he walks backwards, and Shepard can't help his quiet laugh, the air in the humid room growing comfortable again.  
  
"I'll drop by and see Lexi now. Thanks, Scott." Shepard says softly, picking up his clothes from the bench as Scott manages to get himself together enough to make his way out of the room, muttering something under his breath that Shepard can't catch.  
  
Shepard waits for the doors to whir shut before he pulls his clothes on quickly, discarding the towel in a hamper as he exits through the doors, feet taking him to the medbay where Lexi's waiting.  
  
"Ah, Shepard. Glad to see you managed to eat," She glances up at him from her datapad, "And shower." she notices with a pleased noise. Shepard's just glad to feel somewhat human again.   
  
"Alright, Scott said you wanted to do a check before you give me the go-ahead." Shepard says to her, watching as she moves across the room.  
  
"You'll be going, _regardless_ of whether or not I give you the go-ahead." Lexi states dryly, fixing Shepard with a glance over her shoulder, and he manages a smile at that. She's not wrong.  
  
"Maybe." He plays along, leaning absently against the doorframe. Lexi laughs quietly, walking back over to him with her omnitool up.   
  
"Just a quick scan. Your implant is what I'm most worried about, seeing as SAM is new." Lexi explains with a quiet hum, clearly able to make sense of the information passing her holo. It looks like a mess to Shepard, but he trusts her judgement enough by now.  
  
"Anything I should look out for?" Shepard asks idly, the majority of his fears about the AI already quelled by how useful it had been in such a short space of time. Regardless, he doesn't trust SAM entirely and he doesn't think he ever will, but he can deal with that. What he can't deal with, however, is SAM accidentally frying his nervous system. That, he needs to know more about.  
  
"Nosebleeds, headaches, eye strain. SAM is connected to your entire system, but not to the level that he's integrated into Scott."   
  
"And that means... what, exactly?"   
  
Lexi sighs, shaking her head slowly.  
  
"We don't know. I'm theorizing that SAM can exert greater control over Scott's systems, whereas with you and the rest of the team, SAM can only access sensory data and essential systems. Just enough to keep you alive."   
  
Shepard whistles lowly, breath scraping through his teeth.  
  
"Sounds dangerous."   
  
"It's necessary." Lexi counters, but there's a reluctance to her voice that says otherwise. Shepard falls into a comfortable silence as Lexi works, running diagnostic after diagnostic until she turns her omnitool off with a satisfied hum.   
  
"Nothing to note. Keep an eye on that shoulder, though. No harebrained schemes." She warns, passing him the kinesiology tape from earlier. He takes it with a half-smile, nodding as he turns to leave, Lexi's voice following him out.  
  
"And... well, look after the Pathfinder. He's putting up a good front, but I know he's nervous."  
  
Shepard falters in his step, turning to look over his shoulder with a well-worn smile instead of a half-hearted smirk.  
  
"Always do."


	21. Empty Promise

Sand.  
  
Hot, dry, arid, sand.  
  
Shepard can feel the sheer aridity of Eos through the gaps in his armour, in every filtered breath he takes through his helmet. He coughs as soon as they step off the Tempest, dry air catching in his throat. Cora hisses next to him, double-checking her helmet clamps. Scott's already ahead, omni-tool out as he surveys their landing zone.  
  
"Where do we even _start_?" Liam asks, unusually morose as he looks around, boots kicking up the sand. Shepard wonders the same thing, watching the sand disperse and settle across the ground. He walks a few steps further, kneeling down to drag his hands through the terrain, rubbing his gloved fingers together across the grain as it falls from his fingers.   
  
"Reports state this planet suffers deadly storms that are contaminated by radiation from the Scourge." SAM crackles over their comms, "Eos deployment was incomplete due to environmental hazards and, ultimately, hostile encounters."  
  
Shepard stands up, turning back to the group.  
  
"Great. Hostiles? What kind of numbers are we talking, SAM?" he asks carefully, sparing a glance at the empty prefab buildings around the lake ahead of them.   
  
"Unknown." SAM replies, and Shepard shakes his head, scoffing incredulously. Of course SAM wouldn't know. At least he feels a little better with the knowledge that he's got the Valkyrie with him this time.   
  
"Plus, they didn't have a Pathfinder." Scott diverts the conversation, stalking forward to get better sights on the encampment, "If Eos is like Habitat 7, that signal we scanned must be connected with the atmosphere."   
  
"Right. We need to find that signal." Cora states, an easy air of command to her voice as she follows Scott down the pathway to the site. Liam lingers after her, but Shepard waits around by their landing zone, eyes set on generator sitting above them.   
  
They'll need something to find that signal, and that something is almost definitely going to need power.  
  
Power that's been cut off.  
  
Shepard shifts his weight, pulling loosely at the energy thrumming over his skin in tight rivulets. It reverberates with a hum through his armour, and he can feel the bloom of the biotic conduits at his back, spurring him up with ease, allowing him to scale the overhang with careful leaps, hands finding purchase easily on the craggy rock. He pushes himself over the lip, feet digging in as he tries not to use his bad shoulder.   
  
"Hey, where's Shepard?" Scott's voice is distorted over the team comm, but Shepard catches enough of it.  
  
"Power generator, on your six." Shepard informs him and the rest of the team, getting up to his feet to find a way of getting the power back on.   
  
"Right, yeah. We need to power the antenna." Scott sighs, "Got anything?"  
  
"It's been cut off, but parts have been stripped from half the stuff out here, and not by the weather." Shepard notes grimly, feet hitting a half-buried plate beneath the sand, torn from what he can only assume used to be a functional atmo-reader.   
  
"What, scavengers?" Scott huffs, and Shepard can hear footsteps over the comm.   
  
"Probably." Shepard finds his way to the generator, following the cables to the antenna he can see just behind it.   
  
"We lost a lot of people in the uprising," Liam's voice joins them, "Suppose it's those exiles Tann was on about?"  
  
Shepard knows little about these exiles, only that things went to complete shit on the Nexus, forcing an inevitable riot. Authority pushed too hard, Shepard thinks, tried to pull too many strings at once, and they got tangled instead. Easier just to cut off the mess than deal with it. The more he considers the Nexus leadership, the more he starts to hate them.  
  
"I don't know. Whoever scrubbed this stuff wasn't looking for firepower." Shepard returns to the conversation, able to note that the missing pieces of equipment stacked up to something far more specific than trying to jury-rig some firearms. He pulls himself up onto the scaffolding, the cables twisting around the metal frame until they reach the antenna itself.   
  
"They must have known this setup wasn't gonna last in these conditions." Scott's voice is much closer now, and Shepard glances over his shoulder to find the group walking towards the scaffolding.   
  
"They didn't have a Pathfinder." Shepard points out, reiterating Scott's earlier point before turning back to the console in front of him. It's locked out.  
  
"Can we get into those buildings on the main site? We're locked out from here. Needs codes, probably." Shepard surmises, pushing off the console to jump off the scaffolding, biotics crackling to slow him down as his feet hit the sand, spurring up a dust cloud.  
  
"Let's look." Scott turns back, Cora and Liam close behind. They head down to the main site, Scott with his scanner trained on every locked door they pass.   
  
"This salvage is new, Pathfinder. "Days ago" new." Liam calls from somewhere behind them, and Shepard turns to see the man shifting through empty crates, not as weather-beaten as the stripped parts up on the overhang. Shepard frowns, the implications becoming far more real now.  
  
"Who else is here?" Cora asks quietly, joining Liam to investigate. She doesn't get an answer, as Scott turns back to investigating the locked doors and Shepard follows him, swallowing his reply. No sense in jumping the gun just yet.   
  
"This door is inoperable, Pathfinder." SAM hums levelly, and Scott rolls his eyes, turning to Shepard with a sigh.  
  
"Does _anything_ here work, SAM?" Scott asks wearily, hands falling to his hips as he surveys their surroundings idly. Shepard rolls his neck, the bulk of his armour pressing too tight over his taped-up shoulder. He ignores the twinge that follows, knowing he's glad to be on the ground and not cooped up on that ship.  
  
And not at all because he's worried about their new Pathfinder, he tells himself.  
  
"Emergency power is being supplied to certain structures, Pathfinder, however, they are inaccessible." SAM informs, crackling cooly over the dry air.  
  
"Code-locked." Scott fills in the blank, and Shepard spares a glance at the buildings across the small lake in front of them. There must be something around here.  
  
"Site One issued individual security codes," SAM chimes up again, "Each outpost self-organizes and sets its own protocol."   
  
There's a beat of silence where Shepard meets Scott's gaze, exchanging exasperated looks as they consider SAM's convoluted explanation.  
  
"Just say we can't open it without codes." Scott groans tiredly, shaking his head as Shepard chuckles drily, turning to start heading towards the other set of prefabs.   
  
"We can't open it without codes." SAM responds, and Shepard swears there's a hint of drollness behind those artificial words.   
  
"Let's go." Scott jogs past him, a hand brushing Shepard's elbow as he does, and Shepard follows suit. They quickly reach the prefabs, and the main door is wide open. The room inside is dark, dust and sand covering every surface and gathering in every corner, like Eos is trying to swallow it up. Shepard's foot hits an overturned light, broken from the storms, and he nudges it out of the way, scraping harshly over the metal floor as Scott ventures further in. The next room looks more like an office with papers scattered everywhere, folders open and upturned, chairs knocked over under the table which still has coffee mugs left on it.   
  
This might have been a home, once. Shepard grimaces, his face obscured by his helmet. Small mercies, Shepard thinks, turning his eyes away from the mess and towards a terminal that Scott's hovering over with his omnitool.  
  
"Hey, it's an audio log." Scott says quietly, and Shepard's not sure he wants to hear it, given the state of this place. Scott looks even less certain, but he plays it anyway, and they listen in bleak silence. It's a dead voice, for a dead story, in a dead place. Shepard doesn't like the way the words take shape and shatter across the floor like a memory. He can almost see it. Colonists clinging to desperate hope, day by day, losing their footing one by one until there's nobody left. They never stood a chance.  
  
The audio log ends long before either of them speak up again.  
  
Shepard picks up a datapad in silence, flicking through the notes until he finds an old log with what looks like a code number, and he passes it to Scott, who doesn't take it.  
  
"How many people have died trying to make this a home?" Scott asks quietly, voice weak in the brittle air. Shepard understands his fears, but he knows it's the last thing Scott needs to dwell on right now.   
  
"Enough to start doing something about it." Shepard nudges him with the datapad, but when Scott doesn't respond, he heaves out a heavy sigh and brings his free hand to rest on Scott's shoulder with a reassuring squeeze.   
  
"Come on, Scott. We've got this."   
  
Scott just looks at him, almost angry, but it's muted and lost in the rest of the thoughts written across his face. Shepard reads them like a language he knows, and keeps what he finds there close to his chest. Barely out of the starting gate, and they're already stumbling.   
  
"You might, not me." Scott sighs, and Shepard doesn't miss the way Scott's eyes drift over the N7 mark on his armour.   
  
"I'm not taking this up. No way." Shepard balks, shaking his head as he realizes where Scott's going.   
  
"Oh, come on. You know just as well as I do that you are _way_ more qualified for this bullshit!" Scott hisses, all but yanking the datapad out of Shepard's hand.  
  
"Not fucking true." Shepard retorts harshly, grimacing as the force yanks his bad shoulder out of its comfort zone, a fresh sting pulling at the tendon. Scott has the decency to look apologetic for a second, but Shepard waves him off.  
  
"You sound way too confident." Scott sniffs indignantly, focusing his glare on the datapad in his hands instead of at Shepard.   
  
"Aren't I always?" Shepard chuckles lowly, but when Scott doesn't reply, he grows quiet and tense, hand moving from Scott's shoulder to the back of his neck, making Scott look at him with a gentle nudge.  
  
"Scott, _trust_ me. You're gonna be fine." Shepard seeks out Scott's gaze, trying to reassure him, and he can feel the slight tension running under Scott's shoulders. It ebbs out after a few moments, and Scott finally nods, exhaling sharply as he sets the datapad back down. Shepard gives Scott's helmet a playful knock, smirking, before he brings his arm back to his side and turns his eyes to the door where he can hear Liam and Cora drawing closer.   
  
"We searched the perimeter prefabs, found a code." Cora announces when she sees Scott, who nods at her and heads towards the door.  
  
"Yeah, we got one too. Let's see what they locked up." Scott leads them out of the building, back over to the locked structures from before. He swipes the lock and inputs the code, and the rush of air as the locks hiss open is a reassuring sound. Shepard moves in, finding it in as much of a state as the last one, just without sand everywhere. These people were clutching at straws.   
  
"Main door had power, but not the interior ones?" Scott throws a question to the air, not quite expecting an answer, but SAM provides one anyway.  
  
"Full functionality would require an active power relay station."   
  
Shepard carries on his investigation, following Scott into the next room through another set of doors, thinking back to the antenna they'd found on the overhang.  
  
"That's why the antenna's out of power, then." Shepard realizes, eyes landing on a hectic setup of crates and cables running through the subsequent rooms. He and Scott follow them to the same destination.  
  
"Must be some logs to tell us what went on here." Scott muses idly, and Shepard agrees with a quiet hum as he looks over discarded folders and datapads strewn across workbenches. The place is such a mess, Shepard finds it hard to even imagine finding anything in here. He just hopes Scott's better at looking for things than he is.   
  
"Ah-- got something." Scott calls him from the room just ahead, and Shepard follows his voice in. Another terminal. Scott opens the console and hunts around for a log, finding nothing complete.  
  
"Partial log, but I can't turn on the antenna. Something's blocking the power." Scott deduces quickly, hands flying across the holo as he shuts it down, turning to look around the room.  
  
"A remote lock is active. The interference originates from a nearby power relay station." SAM filters through the room, and Shepard spares a glance out of the window to the prefab on the overhang by their landing zone.  
  
"Back where we started." Shepard says, backtracking out of the room with Scott in close succession. They find Cora lingering by the entrance, keeping an eye out for Liam, who's gone ahead to investigate a shipping crate.  
  
"Find anything?" She asks, briefly glancing over her shoulder at them when she hears their footsteps.   
  
"Power's being actively blocked." Scott tells her, gesturing to the relay station. "From there."   
  
Cora follows his gesture, finding the station with a nod to him as he passes.  
  
"Liam went to check out that crate. Thinks there's still something in it." Cora informs Scott as they head back out, pulling Liam back into the group when they reach him.  
  
"Needs an access code." Liam sighs wearily, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb at the crate behind them.   
  
"So does everything else in this place." Scott grumbles, and there's a terseness to his voice that lands the whole group in a tense silence for the rest of the way.   
  
It's not until they reach the doors that they find it locked, and another harsh sigh from Scott drives the group further into their strained silence. Scott swipes heavily at a nearby console, and a new comm channel opens up, pulling everybody's attention back to the door.  
  
"Huh. That ship wasn't Kett, then. They don't knock." A disembodied voice joins them, and Shepard resists the urge to laugh at how desperate this situation has become.  
  
"Does that _look_ like a Kett ship to you?"   
  
"Look, I'm not getting my ass busted just so I can tell the difference between you and an alien. What the hell do you _want_?" The voice crackles and spits, the comm signal flickering. Scott shoots Shepard a look over his shoulder, and Shepard holds his hands up in a gesture of submission.   
  
"Wait, there's people here? We thought everyone left was gone." Scott turns back to the console, brow knitted in confusion.  
  
"Oh, 'course ya did. Now shove off, find your own salvage. This spot's taken." The voice grows harsher with every word, and Shepard shifts his weight to his left leg, folding his arms tight across his chest, blatantly reminding himself to keep his mouth shut, no matter how much he feels like decking the console.  
  
"I'm not a salvager, I'm a Pathfinder. We're trying to fix this mess." Scott sighs wearily, leaning forward a little, bracing his weight on the console while he tries to navigate this particular conversation.  
  
"Clancy." The voice comes with a name, finally, "Pathfinder, huh? Like that changes anything."   
  
Shepard doesn't like the scorn in those words at all, and Scott glances over his shoulder again, shaking his head when he finds Shepard's eyes on him. He's asking for help.  
  
"Not if you stand here arguing about it, it won't." Shepard rumbles lowly, his words delivered with a harsh edge of static through the comm.   
  
"What the hell's an _N7_ doing here anyway? Didn't we leave you all back home?" Clancy retorts, sneering. Shepard can hear him rattling around inside, and he decides he's low enough on patience for the day.  
  
"This N7 is about to blow this door to hell if you don't open it."   
  
"Alright, I don't doubt that." Clancy relents, "But first: what exactly do ya need?"   
  
"We're tracking a signal, we need to access the power for the antenna." Shepard growls, taking the advantage where he sees it, now that Clancy's growing quieter.  
  
"Look, I cut the power for a _reason_. Kett are patrolling today. You turn that relay back on, they'll know there's a juicy target alive down here."   
  
Shepard feels the reassuring weight of the Valkyrie at his back, shifting as he moves towards the door with purposeful steps, hands resting on his hips as he glances down, measuring up their chances.  
  
They have more than enough firepower between them. The site has no shortage of decent cover, and if things get bad, the Tempest is right there.  
  
Shepard's dealt with worse odds.  
  
"We'll take them. You just worry about getting the power back on." Shepard doesn't leave him any room to argue, and he takes the silence as a small victory. There's a rustle of movement from inside the door, muffled words and boots hitting metal, before the familiar thrum of a generator kicks up behind them. Shepard turns to look, finding the antenna flaring up, the console flickering with command lines.   
  
"Good choice."   
  
"Yeah, yeah. You sound like a guy I met once." Clancy hisses, and Shepard hears a dull thud that sounds suspiciously like a boot hitting a door. "Called himself a Spectre."   
  
"You have a funny idea of staying out of trouble, Arquist." Shepard chuckles grimly, pushing himself away from the door as he hears a clatter followed by a string of curses.  
  
"How the hell do you know my name?"  
  
"Seriously? You got your ass handed to you by a Batarian smuggling ring, and yet you decided this was a great career choice for Andromeda?"   
  
"Oh, shit. Shepard--"   
  
"Yeah. Word of advice? Don't start pissing people off in this galaxy too."   
  
"Y-yeah. Right."   
  
Shepard leaves the conversation there, meeting Scott's amused glance with one of his own as they break into a jog back over to the antenna. He leaves Scott to deal with the technicalities this time, choosing to linger at the base of the scaffolding with his Valkyrie at the ready, sitting comfortably in his hands. He takes a huge comfort in having such a familiar weight on his arm, the rifle fitting him just as well as it used to when he takes a look down the scope.  
  
"Christ, you know far too many people." Liam chuckles next to him, grinning through his visor at Shepard.  
  
"Yeah, I definitely do." Shepard's just glad the tension from earlier has left, leaving room for quiet, comfortable banter instead. Shepard knows that building a team doesn't come from nothing, and these are the moments that lay those foundations. He just hopes Scott knows that, because Shepard can't get rid of the feeling that he isn't always going to be there when Scott needs him.   
  
Andromeda has much more waiting for them, more than they could even imagine, and not every problem is going to be solved with a bullet or a name steeped in legend.   
  
And that worries him. The black and white of the Milky Way doesn't exist here, but neither does grey. They're flying completely blind, guns blazing, hoping to land somewhere where the ground doesn't give way underneath them.  
  
"Get into cover!" Cora's shout reaches Shepard, and he turns to charge behind a rocky outcrop, listening as the stutter of the Kett ships roll in.


	22. Noise

It's quiet.  
  
Shepard lost count of how many kett they killed after the fourth wave of footsoldiers, mind honed in completely on the steady fire of his rifle, interspersed with the shock of his biotics. His shoulder burns angrily as he pushes himself out of cover when Cora calls the all clear, eyes roving over the field to run a mental checklist. Scott and Liam, accounted for, Cora's inspecting one of the kett bodies, and nobody's injured.  
  
Shepard thanks whatever's up there that taking a chance didn't backfire today.  
  
"We good?" Liam calls out to the group, receiving murmurs of assent in return, everyone mostly occupied with reloading, recovering or investigating the kett bodies. Shepard doesn't bother holstering the Valkyrie on his back again, choosing to carry it instead, hand curling firmly around the grip. There's a pleasant buzz humming across his hot skin as his biotics cool down, and he walks over to the main group, finding Scott looking back up at the relay station.  
  
"Power's up, SAM's tracking the signal." Scott says briskly, standing up to his full height as he holster his own guns. "Let's check on Clancy."  
  
"He might have a way into these crates. Don't know what's in 'em, exactly, but it's secure for a reason. Could be useful." Liam chimes in, and Scott just nods lamely, still reeling from the last of his biotics. It's odd, Shepard notes, knowing that Scott's biotics aren't quite as souped up as his or Cora's. Scott reaches up to rub his temples with a grimace as he hunches over slightly, and Shepard can't help but link the gesture to SAM. The same as before, on the Nexus.  
  
"You okay?" Shepard moves past Scott, making to follow Liam and Cora but stopping when Scott winces, the noise sharp and painful. "Scott?"  
  
"Yeah. SAM's doing... something. It's fine." Scott waves him off, shaking his head as if to clear the interference. He straightens up, exhaling sharply  
  
"That really fills me with confidence." Shepard drawls, pushing off again, and he hears Scott's quiet snigger behind him. It doesn't quite move the worry sitting tight in his ribs, but it soothes it a little. Scott knows his limits, Shepard trusts him.  
  
They reach the relay station and Clancy, who seems entirely unfazed and more concerned about his salvage, but he only points them back to the crate in the main site with a guarantee that it's got 'something they'll need.'  
  
It sounds about as solid as any other plan they've made up so far.  
  
Granted, Shepard doesn't find himself in a position to care. He's tired of listening to the man droning on, his nasally words grating on every last nerve, so he finds himself back at the shipping container ahead of the others, fiddling about with the lock while they try and convince Clancy back to safety. Which seems like a complete waste of time, but Shepard is content to leave them to it. They'll figure it out, eventually.  
  
Hooking deft fingers around the catch on the crate, Shepard pulls at his biotics with precise movement, controlling the course with an experienced hand. He's sprung plenty of crates in the past. Smuggling requires careful workarounds. Shepard's spent enough time underground to know that. He uses every trick in the book to try and bust this lock, but it won't give. After the sixth attempt, Shepard settles for delivering a forceful kick to the corner of the crate, but that only serves to jar his leg, knee clicking awkwardly back into place while he turns the air blue around him.  
  
" _Fucking_ piece of useless _junk_ \--"  
  
Shepard doesn't bother trying anything else, digging a foot into the sand banked up against the container while he waits for Scott and the others. He's fully aware of how frayed his attention is becoming, and it's making him itch where he can't reach. He tries to tap out a staccato rhythm with his fingers on his leg armour, but it doesn't do anything.  
  
"Come _on_." Shepard grouses, looking over his shoulder for any sign of them. He catches the glint of light on armour in the distance, and feels some of the tension ebb way as he curls and uncurls his fingers. He sees the familiar flicker of Scott's scanner as the group draws near, already looking over the crate.  
  
"Special requisition: all-terrain scout rover." Scott murmurs, reading off the description across the scanner holo.  
  
Shepard brightens considerably. A rover? That's something he knows. He trained as an engineer before he ever joined front-line service, and... well. It's familiar. Close to home. He'll take it.  
  
"Now we're talking!" Shepard grins, eyes bright in the harsh glare of the sunlight, and he looks over at Scott.  
  
"A Nomad!" Gil chirps up over the Tempest link, drawing everybody's attention, "Six-wheel drive. Jump jets. Just what you need."  
  
"I might be drooling a little bit." Liam says with a grin, eager to get going.  
  
"Jump-jets? I guess Ryder's not driving then." Shepard chuckles lowly, and Cora's quiet laugh joins him across the way. Scott huffs, hands falling to his hips as he cocks his head, a challenge for Shepard written across his expression.  
  
"Uh, Shepard, I seem to recall _you_ were the one driving the Mako at a ninety-degree angle through geth turrets."  
  
"Tactical evasion."  
  
"We were on _fire!_ "  
  
"Okay, so _neither_ of you are driving." Cora sighs wearily as their bickering escalates, and Liam's laughter joins the mess.  
  
It's not until SAM interrupts that they finally pipe down, catching the AI's words halfway through their own.  
  
"This crate requires an access code from a forward station."  
  
Scott groans audibly as he turns to survey the site, SAM chiming in again to further explain.  
  
"Forward stations act as emergency resupply points. Several are currently waiting in orbit."  
  
There's a pause while Scott considers SAM's words, rubbing absently at his neck where his helmet is starting to pull.  
  
"I'll go find a good spot then." Scott sighs, pushing off into a light jog to a large, flat area outside the prefabs, next to the lake. Shepard watches him go, the glint of light off his armour fading as he draws further away. He leans casually back against the door of the crate, arms folding across his chest as he waits, watching Liam and Cora discussing something they'd found earlier.  
  
"Gil, what kind of shields are we looking at here?" Shepard turns his attention to the Nomad's specifications. It's a new model, not a vehicle he's worked with before, given that they were a specific requisition for the Initiative, according to SAM.  
  
"Your basic shields. They could do with an upgrade, I won't lie to ya." Gil hums over the comm, and Shepard can hear the rattle and hum of the drive core in the background.  
  
"They'll hold out against these radiation storms, though?" Shepard asks, sparing a glance past the perimeter fence where thick, dark clouds roll in quiet fury.  
  
"Yeah, but you'll want to be quick. Until we get that baby back on the Tempest, I don't have a clue how much it can actually survive."  
  
"I'll have a look when we get it out of this crate." Shepard sighs, rolling his shoulder as he feels a dull ache thumping through the muscle.  
  
"You know what you're looking for?" Gil asks, skeptically. Shepard resists the urge to roll his eyes, pushing himself off the door as Scott returns.  
  
"Yeah. I trained as a field mechanic before I got pulled into front-line service."  
  
"Ah, a man of many talents." Shepard can practically hear the grin in Gil's voice, "Are you good at poker too?"  
  
"Alright, people, we're _busy_." Scott brings a not-so-subtle derail to the conversation, and Gil just laughs before he switches his comm link back to standby. Shepard shoots Scott a pointed look, a glint of amusement in his eyes, but Scott just pretends not to notice as he passes by and inputs the access code to the crate.  
  
They manage to get the rover out, and Shepard feels much better just for knowing they have this in their clutches now. It's a solid ATV, like Gil said, six-wheel drive and jump jets for maneuverability. Shepard's impressed by how well it's designed, a hum of approval escaping him as he runs a skilled hand across the tyres to check the discs.  
  
"All good?" Liam crouches down to get a better view of the chassis, and Shepard just nods, pushing himself back up from the tyres with a sigh.  
  
"Yeah. It's been locked up, no exposure to the elements." Shepard shrugs, "But until it gets running, won't know for sure how we're doing for shields and fuel."  
  
Liam straightens up next to him, pulling open the door.  
  
"Well, let's find out."  


* * *

  
Cora snagged the driver's seat before either Scott or Shepard could get there, so they've been relegated to the back while Liam rides shotgun at Cora's insistence. The drive is uncomfortable as all hell, crammed into a tight space with unforgiving ground to get across, and Shepard finds his enthusiasm quickly fading with every bump in the road Cora manages to find.  
  
"I still don't see why I can't drive." Scott mumbles, folding his arms tight across his chest and relinquishing his hold on the grips. Shepard snickers, and Scott shoots him an indignant look. Shepard just shakes his head at him, leaning back against the headrest as the ride jostles his shoulder, sparking a fresh wave of pain, shooting through his neck. He groans quietly, trying to use his legs to brace himself against Liam's seat.  
  
"Cade?" Scott's voice is low, right by his ear, and Shepard just grunts out a reply.  
  
"What?"  
  
"What's wrong? Shoulder?" Scott shifts so he can face Shepard, arms unfolding, one hand reaching for the door handle as Cora launches the Nomad over a dip. Shepard lets out a string of curses as soon as the Nomad lands and jolts his shoulder into the door.  
  
"We can stop--" Scott turns to shout to Cora, but Shepard stops him, keeping his voice hushed underneath the sound of the engine. He wants quiet. His ears hurt, his skin itches every time somebody speaks, and he _needs quiet_.  
  
"No, it's fine."  
  
He's too _loud_.  
  
"Cade-"  
  
"It's fine."  
  
"It's obviously not--"  
  
_Too loud._  
  
"Scott! It's fucking fine!"  
  
Scott stops dead in his thoughts, mouth caught open, brow furrowed with worry that quickly turns to annoyance, curling his lip into a grimace as he sits back with a huff. Shepard can't think straight past the hot, seething pain running under his skin like a live wire.  
  
Cora says something ahead of them, but Shepard can't make it out. He just fixes his gaze through the gap in the seats, eyes watching as the sand blasts over the windscreen, and he spots a looming structure slowly coming into view. The same one they'd seen on Habitat Seven. The same precise architecture, the same feeling of unease as he regards them, like old bones poking out from the ground.  
  
"The signal's coming from that structure ahead." Scott's voice is sharp, cuts through the air like a bullet. Liam glances over his shoulder at Scott, eyebrow quirked, but he doesn't say anything. Doesn't need to. Shepard just turns his attention to his ragged breathing, trying to get some semblance of control back before he has to deal with whatever's out there.  
  
"Let me get inside the perimeter. Radiation will get us out here." Cora says, and the rest of the ride continues in an awkward, tense silence.  
  
The structure is a behemoth of design. Shepard cranes his neck up to look as he gets out of the Nomad behind Scott, eyes roving over every line and angle he can find. The detail is rigid, intrinsic, and incomparably alien.  
  
"Picking up some Initiative tech from... above us?" Scott's voice filters through the air as they climb up onto the plateau, scattering to investigate.  
  
"I see it. Up on that piece with the scaffolding." Liam confirms, gesturing to the metal framework alongside one of the pillars. Scott takes off towards it, not sparing anybody a second glance as he ascends the frame, making quick work of it before he finds his way onto the pillar. He disappears from view for a moment as he climbs to the summit, the faint orange of his scanner becoming visible a few seconds later.  
  
"This is research tech." Scott informs them, and Shepard isn't surprised that people are trying to make sense of this already.  
  
But who?  
  
"And there's a glyph of some sort, too. Anything on that, SAM?" Scott asks the AI, beginning his descent.  
  
"Using the database I acquired from Habitat Seven, I may be able to interface with that console below, Pathfinder."  
  
"And we can kick-start the atmosphere, huh?" Scott jumps down onto the scaffolding, descending the rungs easily, and his boots hit the ground when Shepard turns back to him, holding his left arm awkwardly. Scott doesn't look at him as he heads straight for the console in the middle, exactly like the one that Alec had interfaced with.  
  
Shepard feels cold when the memory takes hold, but he isn't saying anything. They're dead in the water if they can't work this out, and Scott has the best idea out of any of them. Regardless, his stomach twists into uncomfortable knots when Scott's hand hovers over the shifting console, the fragments rising and falling into a pattern that Shepard doesn't understand.  
  
"Building connection. I apologize for any discomfort caused. The system seems unstable." SAM's cool voice hums over the place, an abrupt contrast to the hot sand blowing through the grooves in their armour.  
  
"This what happened when my dad tried doing this?" Scott sounds unsure, voice wavering on a lack of confidence, and Shepard grinds his teeth against reason telling him to pull Scott away.  
  
"Your father interfaced directly with the atmosphere processor," SAM reminds him, "That proved extremely hazardous."  
  
Shepard watches the way Scott's face falls, cheeks hollowing as he bites down on the inside of them.  
  
"System remains unstable. Doubling the power input might accelerate the process." SAM informs, and Scott drops his hand, glancing over at Cora and Liam. They meet him with the same doubtful expressions, the same question burning in the air between them.  
  
_What if it goes wrong?_  
  
Shepard wants to tell him to stop right there, but he doesn't. Scott turns back, half-shrugging, placing his hand back over the console.  
  
"I'll give it a go--"  
  
_"Wait!"_  
  
A new voice.  
  
Shepard doesn't recognize it, and he immediately reaches for his rifle, biting down against the wave of pain through his shoulder as he twists to reach it, feet set apart in automatic firing position. Footsteps follow the voice, growing faster and louder until they bring a body into view. Asari. Armed with a pistol and nothing else. Not a combatant. Shepard begins to wonder whether she's got anything to do with the research materials scattered around the place, but the thoughts scatter as soon as she hits Scott, knocking him to the ground with a shout.  
  
Shepard wastes no time crossing the plateau, rifle aimed, and he doesn't realize he's speaking until the asari looks straight back at him.  
  
"Back off. _Now_."  
  
She raises her hands in a gesture of submission, blinking a few times as she takes in her situation.  
  
"Woah, easy -- you've come this far, just let it ride..." She drawls, almost cocky, but Shepard watches as Liam and Cora lower their weapons slightly, and he feels obliged to do the same.  He doesn't feel any better about it, though.  
  
"Okay, time to get off." Scott grumbles, unceremoniously shoving the asari off him so that he can get up. She just laughs and uses the momentum to roll back onto her feet, jumping up brightly.  
  
"Don't like being sat on, huh?" She quips to Scott with a wry smile, and Shepard curls his fingers tighter around the grip of his rifle. Scott turns back to her with a stormy expression, and she just rolls her eyes, sticking her hand out. He looks down at her outstretched hand and back to her, mouth set in a stony line that shows no sign of compromise.  
  
"I know, I know -- who am I?" the asari sighs heavily, withdrawing her hand to her hips as she regards the group, "I mean, it's obvious who you are. I saw the ship swoop in--"  
  
Scott shifts his weight onto his other leg, folding his arms tight across his middle as he regards the asari with growing irritation. She doesn't seem fazed in the least.  
  
"You're a Pathfinder. Was beginning to think the Initiative just made you guys up so we wouldn't lose hope, but you're for real, huh?"  
  
Scott bristles at that, and Shepard almost feels bad for the asari having to deal with him.  
  
"Are _you_ for real? You were going to tell me who you are."  
  
She shrugs, turning to look at the structure towering over them. There's a low hum coming from the ground, and Shepard can feel the vibrations through his armour plates when he turns to look. The main column lights up with a rumble, and a sharp beam of light cuts through the sky from the summit.  
  
SAM's voice filters in alongside the spectacle, quiet and unassuming in the face of their discovery.  
  
"System has stabilized. I'm establishing a connection."


	23. Rough Landings

_Remnant._  
  
The name sounds crude, a hasty label to slap onto something they don't understand. Shepard watches the asari -- who finally introduced herself as Peebee once Scott snapped -- and quickly determines that she's nothing short of a researcher. But she's out here, alone, on an uncharted world, surrounded by hostile aliens, and Shepard finds himself wondering exactly how she's managed to survive this long.   
  
It doesn't sit right. Shepard decides he needs a perspective he doesn't have yet, so he stays quiet and waits for Scott to deal with it.  
  
Before any of them can speak further, there's a low hum that pitches into a keening whine, reverberating through the structure, and a group of bots materialize from a roll of thick, blue smoke. Shepard instinctively leaps for cover as he turns his gun on the nearest bot, throwing a shockwave to get it away from him. The others are quickly spurred into action when they realize the bots are attacking, and between them, they make short work of the interruption.  
  
"What the _hell_?" Shepard mutters to himself, sucking in a heavy breath as his ribs ache with the pull of muscle under skin. He nudges a deactivated bot with his foot, but Scott's voice interrupts him.   
  
"I know these things! We've seen them on Habitat Seven--" Scott hisses before Peebee shoves him unceremoniously out of the way to fire a round at a levitating Remnant bot, the bullets meeting their target quickly. Shepard just watches as the bot shudders and sparks and clatters to the ground with a rattle.   
  
"These monoliths," Peebee sighs, gesturing to the structure around them, "These observer and assembler bots -- they're all the remnant of something much bigger."  
  
She's studied them. Shepard narrows his eyes, trying to decipher just what she's found. Andromeda's got plenty of secrets for everyone; Peebee isn't one he wants to add to the list.  
  
"What have you learned?" Scott huffs, turning back to Peebee after he finishes scanning the dead bot on the ground. Cora and Liam move to secure the perimeter, but Shepard notices they don't stray out of earshot. _Smart_.  
  
"Plenty. Not nearly enough." Peebee sighs quietly, folding her arms as her gaze slides over to Shepard and back to Scott, "It's old, uses glyphs, and it's well protected."   
  
Scott looks around him for a moment, as if measuring up the structure, just to make sure it fits the model in his mind from Habitat Seven. There's no mistake, Shepard knows, this is exactly the same. Every detail.  
  
"We saw this tech clear the skies on Habitat Seven. We're hoping it could do the same for Eos." Scott tells her honestly, and Shepard wonders whether that's a good idea. They don't know her intentions, not yet. If anything, she seems more interested in the Remnant than anything else, but Shepard doesn't fancy being used as convenient springboard.  
  
Especially not for tech he doesn't understand.  
  
"Huh, atmosphere manipulation? Maybe. It fits the model." Peebee hums thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against her arm in a repetitive rhythm that distracts Shepard until he shakes his head, finding something else to fixate on.   
  
"Listen, Ryder--" Peebee drops her arms, movements fast and fluid as she heads past Shepard towards the console, "All Remnant tech is connected. You interfaced with this monolith somehow, and now it's pinging the others."   
  
_Others_? Shepard's head snaps up at the mention, and he moves closer, finally holstering his gun at his back.   
  
"What? Like a network?" he asks, voice rattling with static through his helmet. Peebee cocks her head at him, almost amused.  
  
"Sure. And if you complete the network--"   
  
"Wait, what? Pinging-- other monoliths? Like this one? Where?" Scott interrupts her, hand gesturing for her to slow down. Shepard steps back out of the conversation, letting Scott take the lead again, a silent apology souring the back of his mouth. Shepard's too used to being Commander. He knows it's going to be a while before he feels like just Cade again. Sighing, he lets Peebee and Scott's conversation drone on behind him, stepping away to cast a cursory glance over the area. No immediate threats, just a radiation perimeter and a few signs of a scuffle -- bits of armour and dead Remnant scattered across the place.   
  
His skin feels hot and sticky under his armour, and he reaches up at his helmet clasps, unlocking the seal. SAM's confirmed the atmosphere is perfectly safe inside the perimeter, and Shepard needs air on his face before he starts feeling queasy. The clamps release with a soft hiss, and Shepard pulls his helmet off, setting it down on one of the podiums dotted across the plateau.   
  
"Here, take my navpoints." Peebee's voice grows sharp in the dull air, and Shepard finds himself drawn back to their conversation again, the sharp turn dredging up a blunt pain in his shoulder. He grimaces, shaking it off as best as he can to try and pay attention.  
  
"I've got to figure this interfacing out." Peebee murmurs, bracing herself on the console as she looks over it with a careful eye, "Just be _careful_. This planet's all kinds of strange."   
  
Shepard looks to Scott, who just nods at Peebee with a muted 'thanks', before turning back to find Cora and Liam. They converge back at the Nomad, lingering outside while Scott fills them in on their next move.  
  
"It's like a web; just follow the thread and we'll find the root of it." he summarizes, and Shepard spares him a weary glance.  
  
Nothing's ever that simple.  
  
Scott just looks even more annoyed when he meets Shepard's look, and Shepard shakes his head as he climbs back into the Nomad without a word.  
  


* * *

  
Peebee's advice turns out to be rock solid.   
  
Shepard bristles while Scott just smiles smugly in his direction, brushing past the last few kett bodies so they can get to work dropping the base shield that's stopping them from reaching the third monolith. Turning to assess the damage, Shepard tries to look busy, reloading the Valkyrie with awkward, heavy movements when he can feel Scott's eyes on his back.   
  
"The kett aren't leaving much, are they?" Cora murmurs quietly, noting a few human bodies loaded up on cots and shoved callously into a storage room. Liam looks deeply unsettled, rifling through the room to find answers. He stumbles across an audio log, in a language nobody understands, but it's a horrible, grating sound, and they're glad when it ends. Silence blankets the base as Scott switches the generators off, face set in a grim line.  
  
Shepard feels off, for a moment, like there's something out of place right on his peripheral and he can't catch it. It takes a second, but the hollow silence is shattered with a brutal yell, cracking armour and a booming voice right in his ear before he hits the floor with a brittle shout.  
  
Everything is spinning, or on fire, or _both_. Shepard can't make head or tails of anything, except he knows there's a dangerously heavy weight sitting on his chest like a rock and he can't move it, no matter how much he wills his arms to work. His shoulder is lit up with a searing kind of pain that makes him whimper, but it turns into a growl when his vision swims back into clarity.  
  
A krogan.  
  
"Shit. You humans really are squishy." an old voice, a voice he almost remembers, low and rumbling in the space around him. Shepard shoves as hard as he can with a louder growl, and it still won't _move_.  
  
"Don't make me headbutt you." Shepard meets a pair of yellow eyes staring right back at him, undeniably krogan in their fierceness. They stir up fond memories, but he refuses to dwell on them. Not here. The krogan finally pushes off with a low, rolling laugh that makes Shepard's bones shake uncomfortably, and he realizes just how much pain he's in.   
  
_Everything_ hurts.   
  
Literally everything. He's been in plenty of fights with krogan, but none had quite ended up with him feeling like a pulverized sack of flesh and bone. Shepard just groans weakly and lies there, even as the krogan starts up a gruff conversation with the rest of the group somewhere next to him.   
  
"Who are you?"  
  
Nobody answers the krogan's question, there's only shuffling footsteps and Liam's thin voice.  
  
"Holy shit."   
  
"What? He's _fine_." the krogan huffs loudly, but Shepard can hear footsteps drawing closer, and he finds the familiar white and blue of Scott's armour hovering into vision as he crouches down next to him.  
  
"Shit, Shepard-- are you okay?" Scott's voice is disjointed, not quite in time with his words, but eventually, Shepard manages to decide that no, he is definitely not okay.  
  
"...just peachy."   
  
"I--"  
  
"I asked, _who are you_?" the krogan interrupts with a growl, and Scott looks up with a stony expression, eyes burning quietly.  
  
"Andromeda Initiative. We're not here to cause trouble." Scott snaps, voice curbed by a quiet annoyance.   
  
"So you say." the krogan hums, clearly not satisfied with his answer. Before anyone has a chance to think twice, Scott's been yanked up by the krogan, his claw sitting disturbingly close to Scott's neck, "But you still haven't told me _who_ you are."  
  
Shepard can't react fast enough, his body jarred out of place. He groans as he pulls himself up, trying to pull at his biotics, but they're scattered and unfocused and he barely manages a field strong enough to curl around the krogan, holding him in place.   
  
"I'm the Pathfinder!" Scott hisses, expression quickly turning stormy. He manages to raise a hand in Shepard's direction, telling him to ease off. They don't need a situation on their hands.   
  
Not with a krogan.  
  
"Are you now?" the krogan relents a little, and Scott pushes out of his grip, feet stumbling backwards where Cora and Liam are standing, almost about to reach for their weapons until Scott throws them the same placating gesture.  
  
"My name's Scott Ryder." Scott fixes the krogan with glare, not backing down. Shepard's gaze flickers between the two of them, and he feels a quiet pride that Scott's pulling this off so easily.   
  
The pause stretches out uncomfortably, and Shepard tries to shift to his knees, his shoulder screaming bloody murder. He stifles another groan, a fresh wave of pain rocking his frame as he hunches over on one knee.  
  
"I'm Drack. Clan Nakmor." the krogan finally decides he's satisifed, and drops his stare, turning to reach down and haul Shepard bodily to his feet.  
  
"Oh, _fuck_ -" Shepard hisses, forced to accept the gesture with resignation as it kicks up a whole shitload of pain, coursing through his body like hot wires pulled tight around every joint.   
  
"You'll forgive me if I didn't just trust a stranger from the Nexus. They haven't exactly treated us krogan well." Drack rumbles, fixing Shepard with a strange, curious look before he turns back to Scott. "What are you doing out here?"  
  
"We're checking out these monoliths. The kett seemed interested in this one." Scott explains quietly, eyes still narrowed with thin suspicion. Drack just growls, pacing slightly as he casts his yellow eyes over the group.  
  
"The Nexus knows _shit_ about the kett. They think they're safe, but they're just waiting to die out there in space."   
  
Shepard finds himself agreeing with Drack, in spite of the unfortunate situation the krogan's landed him in. Literally.   
  
The Nexus seems blind to the real problems, and that idea alone is worrying. It's all well and good trying to establish infrastructure, but there's a real threat out there; they're only building things for the kett to tear down.   
  
And Shepard knows what happens when people turn a blind eye to the real problems.  
  
He doesn't want another Saren. Another Sovereign. Pointless deaths, half the Citadel in ruins, a scar in an otherwise golden age; none of it would've happened if people had listened.   
  
This isn't his galaxy. This isn't his home. This isn't his grand plan. There's a dark, quiet comfort in knowing that this galaxy isn't resting on his shoulders, but it's made bitter by the knowledge that Scott's shoulders will be taking those scars this time.  
  
"Listen, I've been quads deep on a couple o' planets for a while now. Taking out kett bases. Fighting ground troops." Drack stops pacing for a moment, looking at Shepard instead. "I know what they can do."   
  
Shepard finds nothing but brutal honesty in Drack's stare, and a certain kind of understanding too.   
  
"Yeah. It's not pretty." Scott sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. Liam clears his throat from behind him, dragging the room's attention his way.  
  
"We could use a krogan like you, Drack." he plies his words carefully, but Drack just chuckles, a booming reverb hitting the room.  
  
"I'm flattered, but do you have any idea how many humans I've watched die? You're meat. You _spoil_." Drack shrugs, glancing across the room, "Besides, the day I help the Nexus again is the day the clouds part and the kett keel over."  
  
Liam looks nothing short of taken aback, and Cora just spares him a weary glance.  
  
"No offense." Drack adds, almost cheerfully.   
  
"None taken." Scott shoots back, moving slowly across the room towards Shepard, who's still hunched over, hands braced on his knees.   
  
"Good. 'Cause I'm getting bored and the kett are getting stronger. Seem particularly interested in this alien tech."   
  
"You mean the Remnant?" Scott clarifies, and Shepard can see his feet moving into view, despite his limited field of vision. He looks up, finding Drack on his way out.  
  
"Yeah. That." Drack grumbles, pausing for a moment as he regards the group one more time, "I'm gonna go find more to shoot. Be careful out there."  
  
He leaves without another word.   
  
Liam breaks the awkward silence, not a moment later, eyes landing on Shepard and Scott across the way.  
  
"Lexi is going to _kill_ you." he directs to Shepard, who manages a scathingly sarcastic smile back at him.  
  
"I think you mean she's going to kill _me_." Scott throws back drily, exhaling sharply as he looks at Shepard.   
  
"How do you even explain that you broke Commander Shepard with a krogan?" Liam snickers, and Cora just sighs, but there's a quirk to her lips that gives away her amusement. Scott looks back over his shoulder at the two of them, exasperated.  
  
"Ugh. Just-- just shut up." 


	24. Overload

Shepard doesn't bother trying to count the extent of his injuries, knowing that most of his body is probably going to be a fetching shade of black and blue and purple for the next week, at least. He grits his teeth when the Nomad screeches to a stop, Cora's apology filtering across the small space to Shepard.  
  
"S'fine." he grumbles, and he can feel Scott's eyes on him.  
  
"You can wait here if--"  
  
"No. I'm coming with you." Shepard shakes his head, pushing himself up and out of the Nomad, landing gingerly outside. He rolls his foot when he stands, feeling the armour plates locking to give him some better support.   
  
"Signal's coming from over there, huh?" Shepard diverts the group's attention away from him, and back to their mission. Interfacing with all three monoliths had triggered this final navpoint, like Peebee had described. Shepard feels increasingly uneasy about this whole thing. Webs never do anything but trap people.  
  
These things were constructed for a reason, and Shepard sincerely doubts that reason is purely for the good of Andromeda's inhabitants.  
  
"Let's check it out." Scott's voice joins Shepard as he climbs out of the Nomad, heading straight across to a console he can see on the edge of the bank, where nothing but water lies between them and the signal on a tiny island.   
  
Scott interfaces with the console, movements still not quite certain, still sloppy. A low rumble shakes the ground again and another structure ploughs out of the water, tearing their gazes up with it.  
  
"The tech's underground too?" Cora muses, but there's no answer yet.  
  
The structure is huge, towering above them in a strange, foreign shape. It only makes Shepard's skin crawl when everybody else seems enraptured by it.   
  
Peebee's voice chimes over their comms, stark and static against the bright daylight.  
  
"I see a door! Come on!"  
  
Scott moves towards the edge of the bank, and Shepard watches as a series of columns align to form a sequential path, taking shape with every step that Scott makes.   
  
"Woah. It's forming a bridge." Scott murmurs in awe, steps growing bolder as he crosses.   
  
"Hah. Let's find out how solid it is." Liam chirps in, jogging ahead, the bridge unfolding under his feet in the same way. Shepard swallows his doubt and follows, taking care to keep to Scott's beaten path.  
  
They reach the other side where Peebee's already heading down into the open structure, leading them into a cool, shady underground. There's a doorway in front of them that grates open slowly, the sound tearing into Shepard's skin with jagged teeth at his neck. He shivers, rolling his shoulders as he catches up with the group, limping slightly.  
  
The doorway grants them access to a vast cavern, lit up in the same light as the monoliths, glowing in soft green along the floor and walls. It carries an ethereal quality, and it looks so undisturbed, perfect in its design. Shepard hates how it makes him feel.  
  
"No. No, this can't be right." Peebee hisses, half turning to look back at the entrance, now closed. "All this fanfare for an empty room?"   
  
Scott just shrugs, looking around as if something might show itself. It's just as empty as Peebee says.  
  
"There's some secret here. There must be. Do your Pathfinder thing!" Peebee gestures erratically in Scott's direction, prompting a confused glance and he opens his mouth to reply, but another rumble sends the conversation scattering. Everyone's gazes hit the floor, and a set of panels slides open, revealing a gap in the centre of the room that leads down.  
  
 _Where?_  
  
Shepard looks over at Peebee, skittering excitedly near the edge at this discovery.  
  
"Oh, you're good." she laughs, looking over to Scott, who just shrugs when Shepard looks at him.  
  
"How far down d'ya think it goes?" Liam asks, peering over the edge carefully. Scott shakes his head, looking down contemplatively. He finds a small rock at his feet, and nudges it down into the chasm. It falls for a moment, and then steadies itself, a blue shimmer encasing it and guiding it down slowly.   
  
"That can't be air pressure. Electrostatic?" Peebee voices her thoughts out loud, "Ah! Gravitation."  
  
Shepard just stares down, watching the rock fall. It's a long way.  
  
"Oh, you _idiot_ , Peebee. That wasn't the front door, this is!" Peebee sighs from across the gap, and there's a beat of silence before Shepard hears the rustle of armour and feet hitting the ground.  
  
"Well, I'll let you know!"   
  
Scott's voice is barely there before Shepard sees him jumping, and his heart lurches with him. The gravity well holds Scott just as well as the rock, and Shepard sucks in a breath when he realizes it's not going to let him fall.   
  
Swallowing the rest of his fear, he jumps.  
  
The sensation is... difficult to process. Every part of him wants to scream, because it's falling, and he hates falling. But it's slow, gentle -- not out of control. It's both terrifying and enthralling, and the blue stream of light only serves to remind him of the quiet stars in the sky he'd died in.   
  
It's too much.   
  
"SAM, _please_..." he whispers, voice raw.   
  
The relief is palpable when he feels SAM working at his nerves, a cool balm against electric skin. He feels the mechanical motion of his breathing slowing, his heartbeat growing steady in his aching chest.   
  
SAM undoes all the cold strings of fear, and Shepard's boots finally hit the ground.   
  
"Hey, this looks like a bunker. Or a vault." Scott's voice sounds from somewhere nearby, but Shepard just fixes his eyes on the door ahead. Making their way through this labyrinthine hell is all he cares about.   
  
"Anything could be important here; let's be thorough." Peebee says as she stalks off, in search of something new.   
  
_No. Let's not be thorough_ , Shepard wants to say, _let's get out of here_. He stays quiet.  
  
Another jarring rumble runs under his feet, and Shepard breaks his trance to look over his shoulder, where Scott's fiddling with another Remnant console.  
  
"Pathfinder, a conduit beneath the floor just activated. Fluid is running through it. It may be generating emergency power; your scanner will have more details." SAM's voice chimes across the vast space, echoing slightly.   
  
Pulling his scanner up, Scott drops down to Shepard's level, walking forward past Shepard to find the conduit that SAM's talking about. His scanner picks it up quickly, and he follows the trail which leads past the door and out of the room. Ahead of them, the door almost seems to crumble, a reverse of the motion that created the bridge from earlier. Shepard watches as the group move ahead of him, and he has no choice but to follow.   
  
A conversation ripples over them, but Shepard pays no attention to anything but putting one foot in front of the other.   
  
Another console lies ahead, and Scott turns his scanner to it, gestures growing more confident.   
  
"Phrase recovered: "Must read to access." This console links to surface facilities." SAM confirms, and Scott nods to himself, making a mental note. Shepard just walks past them, heading to the door blocking their way.  
  
"No glyphs. It looks dead, or locked down -- like everything else in this place." Peebee comments morosely, poking around the corridor.   
  
"The fluid from the conduit leads farther into the vault." SAM informs them, and they move quietly and closer towards the door, a heady mix of excitement and sheer bewilderment settling around them.  
  
"So, we follow that conduit, it might lead to the system lockdown." Scott deduces sharply, a quiet, excited grin pulling at the curve of his mouth.   
  
Shepard is entirely in favour of turning back. This isn't something he can take on with a gun and a battle strategy. This is... _old_. Ancient power. Things completely beyond what they understand, and given his last experience on Habitat Seven, this is the last place he wants to be.  
  
He keeps following, along a string of stubborn hope that Scott leaves in his wake.   
  
Scott reaches out to open the door, omintool flickering gently as he works. Peebee shifts from foot to foot, impatience hovering over her like a swarm. She darts through the smallest gap as soon as the door rumbles into motion, leaving the rest of the group a few paces behind, even as Scott calls for her to wait.  
  
Shepard pushes himself forward, eyes still on the ground, but a shimmering glow of light at his feet pulls his gaze upwards along a blinding column of interlocking plates, moving and shifting along currents of energy. It's almost alive.   
  
It's a _machine_ , Shepard reminds himself.  
  
"Another gravity well. From the outside in, this time." Peebee offers helpfully, sauntering over to the next console, her footsteps faltering when she spots a new artifact sitting pretty and ready for the taking.  
  
"That's new." she hums, nearing the console, stretching a hand out to carefully take hold of the piece. It's like a piece of the light current has been trapped inside a construct, small enough to hold in one hand, and Shepard finds himself briefly wondering what exactly it is, before his wide-eyed stare turns into a scowl again.   
  
"What is it?" Scott pipes up, stepping closer.   
  
"A symbol of authority? A key? It's easy to speculate with the Remnant, but we need facts." Peebee sighs, turning the artifact in her hands, eyeing every angle and line. "I'll see what I can find on this beauty. Maybe over this way--" she points behind Scott, to the left of where they entered the room. Another doorway, but Shepard knows the conduit is running in the opposite direction completely.  
  
"Whatever has this place on lockdown is _that_ way." Scott almost voices Shepard's exact thoughts, and Shepard watches the conversation carefully. Peebee isn't going to play along, not when she knows there's something more to find here.   
  
"Hah, I do my best work solo. You fix up the vault, I investigate the relic, and together we'll figure this place out." Peebee suggests with an air of nonchalance that seems totally out of place here. Splitting up isn't the worst idea, but flying solo in a maze like this is only asking for trouble that they don't need.   
  
Shepard sighs audibly, moving closer to the group.  
  
"You're not going alone." he fixes Peebee with a look that leaves no room for argument, but Peebee seems the type to try anyway.   
  
She just grins back at him, tilting her head.  
  
"Says who? You haven't spoken more than five words since I've met you." she points out, hands falling to her hips as she faces him. Arrogance? Or genuine curiosity? Maybe both, Shepard thinks.  
  
"Name's Shepard." he offers, but Peebee just snorts derisively, making for the door.  
  
"Pfft, right. He's _dead_." she pauses, hesitant, "I'm pretty sure."   
  
Shepard just laughs grimly, the sound hollow and edged by the ring of metal as he pulls his rifle from his holster to follow her.  
  
"I was only mostly dead. Try finding that option on government paperwork."   
  
Peebee stops dead and turns on her heel, eyes wide and stark against the black of her markings.   
  
"Oh, crap. You weren't kidding, huh?"   
  
" _Nope_." Shepard pops the sound, striding towards her easily, ignoring the way his right leg is pulling awkwardly at his knee. He'll no doubt wind up with another few injuries if he's heading with Peebee, so he decides now isn't the time to start worrying about it.  
  
"Woah, woah--" Scott's voice, hurried and pitched, catches them across the room. Shepard stops to look back, Peebee just ahead of him in a mirror of his stance.  
  
"We have no idea what's down there!" Scott looks between the both of them, a thin exasperation colouring his words.  
  
"And we never will, if we miss something because we're all huddled up." Peebee sighs, kicking her heel into the floor impatiently. Shepard just looks at Scott, catches his gaze a familiar one of his own.  
  
"We'll be careful." Shepard reassures him as best as he can, "There's three of you, two of us. We'll attract less attention, if there's anything down there."  
  
"N7 has to count for double, right?" Liam adds, nodding in Shepard's direction.  
  
"Fine. Just... stay on the radio." Scott relents, shoulders drooping slightly, but he nods to Peebee and turns away, glance lingering on Shepard a few seconds before his retreating back disappears from view.  
  
"Well, let's go figure this out!" Peebee skitters off, leaving Shepard to play catch up.   
  
Before long, they're winding down angular tunnels, sharp grooves dug into the walls in repetitive perfection. There's not a single flaw in this design, everywhere Shepard looks, he finds the same precision, the same detail, the same alien feeling.   
  
And Peebee's enthusiasm is doing nothing to help.  
  
"This is fascinating, isn't it?" Peebee murmurs, stopping to admire a carved-out plinth. Shepard gives a non-committal grunt in reply, hands firmly set around the Valkyrie.   
  
"Jeez, you're quiet." Peebee sniffs, looking over her shoulder at the stoic figure. Shepard responds with a one-armed shrug.  
  
"Not much to talk about." he counters easily, taking a few steps closer to the plinth, feigning interest.  
  
"You have no interest in being here, do ya?" Peebee figures, pushing off the plinth to make some headway down another corridor, and Shepard follows.  
  
"If I had my way, we'd have turned back at the front door." Shepard admits, sparing a glance over his shoulder to check the space behind him is still empty. Turning back to Peebee, he sighs. "I'm not an explorer. Discovering the unknown is definitely not something I make a habit of doing."  
  
Peebee laughs at that, the sound reverberating uncomfortably off the walls.   
  
"Right, you're a soldier. All guns blazing and heroic feats, huh? You like _plans_." she drawls on the last word, fixing him with a cocky grin over her shoulder. Shepard just grumbles, shaking his head.  
  
"Strategy, not plans." he corrects her, "Trust me, every plan I've ever tried has gone to complete shit. Strategy, though, you can wing that."   
  
"A fly-by kind of guy?" she turns back to her path forward, the question thrown loosely over her shoulder.  
  
"Maybe." Shepard replies quietly, a smirk hidden by his helmet. Sure, the Alliance had never hailed him for being a poster boy; there probably wasn't a rule he hadn't broken, somehow, but he got the job done. It kept them happy enough. He finds a little bit of exhilarating relief in the notion that he doesn't have someone breathing down his neck, here. The Nexus leaders could argue all they liked -- Shepard isn't under their jurisdiction, not an official member of the Andromeda Initiative, and without an established order... well, there's not much they can do.  
  
"Then we'll be just fine." Peebee's voice calls him back, and Shepard fixes her with a look that he hopes isn't as harsh as before.  
  
Before they get a chance to move any further, a keening whine splits the air between them, a roll of blue smoke heralding the appearance of Remnant. Shepard manages to shove Peebee towards cover before he ducks behind a wall, biotics crackling, ready to fire.  
  
" _Wait!_ Let me try--" Peebee pulls out the artifact from earlier, jumping brazenly into the observers' line of sight. The bots twitch for a moment, as if contemplating, but Shepard sees the red laser firing up in enough time to launch a shockwave, just as the laser hits the ground at Peebee's feet.  
  
"Okay, _not_ a symbol of authority!" Peebee dives back out of the way, and the air is filled with the familiar roll of gunfire and biotics, until Shepard calls the all clear.  
  
"I can't tell if you explorers are ballsy or just fucking stupid." Shepard hisses a moment later, once they catch their breaths back. Peebee just sniggers, holstering her pistol with a wry grin before she carries on.  
  
They make their way in silence for a while, traversing the maze with a blatantly forged confidence. Turning back isn't an option, so Shepard hopes beyond hope that they'll stumble across the Pathfinder team sooner rather than later.   
  
Descending another ramp, Shepard stops short before he walks into the back of Peebee, who's standing at the bottom, eyes fixed on a point in the distance.  
  
"This place is like a _city_." she breathes, words tinged with awe. Shepard follows her line of sight into a vast network below them, a grid of energy, smaller towers, dotted in perfect lines along a meticulous construction. The intricacy is staggering, and the field disappears on a horizon line that neither of them can see. It's huge.  
  
"Holy hell." Shepard mumbles, eyes drinking in the sight with reluctant wonder, "This is... This is a _lot_. What are the Remnant doing with this kind of structure?"   
  
Peebee looks at him curiously, a quiet smile turning her lips.  
  
"Oh, look who's asking." she snickers, and Shepard just rolls his eyes, stepping back from the edge so Peebee can carry on forging a path. She makes her way down a few more ledges, and Shepard spots movement across the chasm. Not mechanical, no sharp glint of metal, bipedal figures, definitely not kett. Has to be the other team.   
  
"The others are over there." Shepard nudges Peebee as he passes her, and Peebee hollers across the chasm, her echo resounding.  
  
"Hey! Peebee!" Scott's voice sounds like a fragile reverb, and they only just catch it.   
  
"Ryder! That relic box we found? Not a symbol of authority!" she throws back, breaking into a jog across the platform, Shepard keeping up closely. Scott tries to shout something back, but it's lost in the chasm and Peebee's already disappeared through another door.   
  
Shepard's omnitool flickers as the comm channel opens, and he's greeted with Scott's voice in much closer proximity.  
  
"Where's she headed?" Scott asks, words stumbling into each other as he rushes to get them out.   
  
"Something about using them on the data fragments SAM's finding." Shepard sighs, not really understanding it himself, "I think what we're seeing on this side is a mirror for your side."   
  
"Hm. Weird. You keeping up?" Scott snickers when he sees Shepard breaking into another run after Peebee, who's since disappeared down a narrow corridor. The crackle of the comms keeps him company as he rushes to find her, following the sound of footsteps.  
  
"Barely." Shepard replies drily, breathing heavy as he turns a corner, and he hears Scott's movement across the comm.  
  
"I'm dropping out, I'll ping you again when I can." Scott's voice is broken up into static the further Shepard runs, so he dismisses his omnitool and focuses on finding Peebee.  
  
He finds her not far ahead, crouching down and examining another door. It's completely busted, out of power, and Shepard already has his eyes on a corridor shooting off from their location.   
  
"That's never gonna work. Let's keep going."   
  
Peebee waves a hand in his direction, shushing him. Shepard snorts indignantly, closing the gap between them and kneeling down next to her. The door is cracked open, and there's a slight window into the next room where Peebee's watching observer bots studiously.   
  
"Peebee?" Shepard prompts, eyebrow raised. She spares him a glance, pulling up her omnitool.  
  
"They're fixing something. I'm trying to figure how." she hisses under her breath, turning her focus back through the slight window which casts a green light across one side of her face. She fixes her omnitool by the door, and a scan beeps across the holoscreen. Shepard doesn't bother asking what it's for.  
  
A few moments later, Peebee's on the move again. Shepard just slips into his new-fangled "don't ask, just follow" mantra. It rubs the wrong way, but he keeps his head down and his eyes forward.  
  
Silence curls around them in eerie tendrils, almost springing up from the place itself. That ethereal feeling is back, louder, stronger than before, and it pulls at Shepard's neck, scratching at skin.   
  
Reaching another door, Shepard's glad to find that this one opens when they draw close, and they step out onto another platform with a drop down below.   
  
"Hey, here they are." Peebee nudges Shepard, directing his attention to a door across the way, opening to reveal the others. Scott's following his scanner again, Liam and Cora looking out for any leftover bots.  
  
"Crap. The conduit's sprung a leak." Scott's voice fills the chamber as he nears a console sitting in the centre of the room, and Peebee clears her throat loudly, interrupting his train of thought. Scott glances up with a start, but he relaxes when he lands eyes on the familiar faces.  
  
"You guys have _got_ to stop sneaking up on us." Scott groans, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck when he turns to figure out the console.  
  
"We were here first!" Peebee shoots back, indignant, with a huff before she folds her arms.  
  
"Yeah, yeah-- we need to fix this thing." Scott sighs, crouching down to take a closer look at the leak. Ferrofluid.   
  
"Careful, there's no way you can interface with it like that." Cora warns sharply, voice moving closer with her footsteps.   
  
"No fluid means no power. Gotta get this working somehow." Scott straightens up, and Peebee calls down to them again.  
  
"Hey, me and Shep found observers using these weird laser frequencies to fix something back there. Let me send them to your omnitool, try it on that leak." she pulls up her omnitool, completely ignoring Shepard's affronted glance at his new nickname, and sends the codes to Scott.  
  
"Shep." Scott sniggers, prompting Shepard to turn his glare on him instead.  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?" Peebee giggles, and Shepard sighs wearily, reiterating his stance back to her.  
  
"... _No_."    
    
Their laughter breaks the tense atmosphere for a few welcome moments. Shepard just watches as Scott fiddles with the omnitool, running the frequency carefully, and the leak is plugged in seconds.  
  
"Yeah, system's responding to these frequencies. Just a patch job, but it'll hold." Scott confirms, and Peebee bounces on the balls of her feet, eager to get going again. They wait for Scott to interface with the next console, and another rumble underneath their feet alerts them to a bridge forming across the way.   
  
"And there's even a bridge! You're a pal, Ryder." Peebee laughs as she breaks into a run for the bridge, and Shepard's hot on her heels, almost enjoying this.  
  
Almost.  
  
"Wait! Where are you guys going? The lockdown--" Scott's about to call them back when Peebee interrupts.  
  
"Can't be far! First one gets the glory, right?"   
  
Her laughter follows her out, and takes Shepard with it.

* * *

The running is the worst part.  
  
Shepard can't remember the last time he's run this fast, this hard, this _desperately_. He's injured, and he's struggling. His lungs are heaving with the effort, burning on every breath he manages to get out. Scott's screaming at him over the comm, crackling into nothing but static as the cloud bites at Shepard's heels.  
  
It's the same one from Habitat Seven.   
  
Every cold fear comes back to clutch at Shepard's back with heavy hands, icy fingers digging into the skin at his shoulders, pressing into flesh and bone with relentless horror.   
  
"Shepard! Come on!" Peebee's ahead of him, way ahead.   
  
He's slowing down. He can't keep going.   
  
Another corner, he tries to pick up speed and he knows it's a mistake as soon as he feels the tear, searing pain shooting up his leg and he cries out, the sound swallowed by the violent rumble behind them.   
  
Peebee's gone from his sight, and he falters, almost turning on the billowing smoke behind him.   
  
Would it be such a shame to die now? Shepard swallows thickly, his eyes burning as the field draws closer and closer.   
  
Maybe not.  
  
Warm hands find his arm, pulling, a voice finds him in the haze. Blue. Bright, blinding blue.   
  
"We have to get out of here! _Cade!_ "   
  
It's too much. Too much.   
  
_Too much._


	25. Sentiment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 60k and I can't even believe I actually got this far! Thank you so much for your comments both here and over on tumblr, and an especially massive thank you to my discord crew who have been keeping me sane (or not) with this venture and helping me out <3 I appreciate it so much!!
> 
> And I promise we're getting rid of that 'eventual' ship tag, uh, eventually ;~)

Waking up in the medbay is becoming _way_ too familiar. With a weary exhale, Shepard lets his eyes adjust to the light, slowly, fingers curling around the cold metal edge of the cot.  
  
"SAM, keep me updated. I'm going to get some coffee." Lexi's voice sounds, disembodied, cold and distant in the familiar room.  
  
"Dr T'Perro, Shepard is awake." SAM's synthetic tones hum over Shepard's skin, drawing him further from sleep.  
  
"No, I'm _not_." Shepard grumbles, almost affronted by SAM's insistence. Shepard doesn't feel like answering Lexi's inevitable questions, and SAM has all but landed him straight in the firing line.  
  
Hearing Lexi's soft footsteps moving closer, Shepard braces himself for the onslaught, eyes sliding over to fix on her when she steps into his line of sight. She looks sympathetic, as usual, and Shepard can only wonder why he's even in here this time, because he doesn't remember _shit_.  
  
"Before you start asking your twenty questions, what happened?" Shepard groans quietly, trying to move into a sitting position only to have Lexi's hand on his shoulder, urging him gently back down.  
  
"Well, what happened to _'no harebrained schemes?'_ " Lexi starts, the line of her mouth turning into a wry smile as Shepard's expression turns sheepish in an instant, "I told them taking you out was a bad idea."  
  
"Doc, honestly, most things involving me usually turn into bad ideas." Shepard snorts derisively, and he doesn't miss the flash of concern that plays at Lexi's glance before she schools her expression back to neutrality.  
  
"Well, to cut a long story short; you and Scott got the brunt of the purification field from the vault." Lexi summarizes, tone clipped, and Shepard feels the first spark of worry shoot through him. It jars him into place, half propped up on his good arm, and his gaze lands on Scott's sleeping form on the metal bed next to him.  
  
"Oh--"  
  
"Shepard, he's fine." Lexi quickly interjects, voice soothing, as much as Shepard wants to ignore it. He spares her a stony look, but there's no bite, and Lexi coaxes him back down.  
  
"You outran it. He's just exhausted."  
  
Shepard closes his eyes, memory teasing on the edge of his vision, and he recalls running. It _hurts_. A sharp corner, a shooting pain, Scott's voice, and then nothing at all. He swallows as the thought leaves a lingering taste of metal and something else he can't place.  
  
"My leg was..." Shepard looks down as he opens his eyes again, finding his right leg strapped up with the same tape holding his shoulder together, and he sighs audibly. Typical. Barely three days in and he's wrecked two limbs, and judging by the way his left leg just aches, he was probably gunning for a third.  
  
"You've been in cryosleep for a long time, Shepard. Your body is still recovering, and it can't take the kind of strain you're putting on yourself."  
  
"I'm not putting it on myself!" Shepard huffs, fixing Lexi with an indignant, fiery glare. Lexi just sighs, gesturing pointedly at his injuries.  
  
"You didn't have to go twenty four hours without food or rest, but you chose to. You didn't have to go to Eos, already injured, but you chose to. You didn't have to go into that vault with them, you didn't have to risk your life to get Peebee to safety when that field came down, but _you chose to_." Lexi returns his look with a firm one of her own, hard-lined and without remorse. In that instant, he finds it hard to keep his gaze fixed, and it crumbles fast, his shoulders sinking under the weight of Lexi's words.  
  
"Alright, way to rack up the points." Shepard grouses, but his words are muted and lacking their usual punch.  
  
Lexi turns to glance over her shoulder at Scott's sleeping form, before her eyes turn back to Shepard with nothing but honesty in their reflection.  
  
"And I know you didn't fall out of that shuttle on Habitat Seven, Shepard. You _jumped_."  
  
The admission is as good as a bullet to the gut. It makes him suck in a sharp breath, skin running hot with quiet chagrin. Shepard doesn't say anything, but he knows his face will give him away. He sucks on the inside of his cheek instead, biting down to keep his words inside, fingers curled tighter around the edge of the bed. Lexi only takes his self-imposed silence as a cue to leave, picking up her datapad before she reaches the door.  
  
"I'll be in the galley for a break, then I want to run a medical." she throws behind her, and the doors slide shut, leaving Shepard alone with Scott.  
  
Waiting for the footsteps to recede completely, Shepard sits up carefully and slowly, trying to assess the damage that's been done. He doesn't doubt that he's been pumped full of painkillers, given that he clearly blacked out somewhere along the way. His leg pulls sorely as he swings himself to sit on the edge of the bed, movements jostling every aching bone in his body. Whatever the prognosis, it's definitely not the worst he's been.  
  
Licking his dry lips, Shepard exhales slowly, eyes landing on the body on the bed a short distance away. Something tugs at his brittle bones from the inside, and he knows exactly what it is.  
  
Shepard isn't going to deny the fact that he's a little more worried about the Pathfinder than he is about himself.  
  
He watches the way Scott's chest rises and falls, just a little bit too mechanically, and Shepard's eyes narrow as he strings together the smallest fragments of a pretense. Scott can't sleep on his back. He doesn't sleep with clenched fists either. And he's _never_ quiet.  
  
"How long have you been awake?"  
  
Scott's mouth quirks up into a half-smile, and he cracks an eye open to look at Shepard, perched on the edge of his bed with a face somewhere between entertained and downright pissed off. Scott just breathes out a laugh, not quite making the right sound, tinged with an edge that isn't usually there.  
  
Shepard just fixes him with a pointed glance, and Scott rolls his eyes.  
  
"Long enough." Scott shoots back, sitting up slowly with a grimace. Shepard notices the way he moves his arms stiffly, and catches Scott with a questioning look.  
  
"I haven't run that hard in years. And then I had to carry your ass to the Nomad." Scott sighs, and Shepard huffs out a quiet laugh.  
  
"Oh, yeah? So how many times did you drop me? 'Cause I'm sure I got plenty of new bruises."  
  
"Not even a _'thank you.'_ I'm hurt." Scott slides off the cot, landing on steady feet. Their laughter is taking the wrong shape, lined by a quiet anger, making every sound harder than it should be. It ricochets off the medbay walls with fierce precision, almost making Shepard flinch, and he knows he owes Scott an apology for their earlier spat on Eos.  
  
When he looks back up from the ground, he finds Scott looking expectantly at him, arms folded across his chest and eyebrow quirked. The humour is gone, replaced now with sharpness, a cold look that reminds Shepard just how quick Scott can be. He's always been like that, always there and gone before anyone could catch him, only ever waiting when he wanted something.  
  
Like now.  
  
Shepard chews over his apology, the words trying to snap together in stilted, artificial sentences that mean nothing. He knows he has to let his guard down, has to be brutally honest with someone, at some point, somehow. He can't keep bottling everything up and hoping nobody's around when he reaches breaking point.  
  
Especially not Scott. And if anyone deserves any kind of honesty from Shepard, it's him.  
  
"I'm sorry, Scott. For earlier, when I-- I didn't mean to snap." Shepard's words are muddied, laced with regret that tastes bitter on his tongue. Scott's watching him, expression unmoving.  
  
"You _meant_ it." Scott corrects, but his voice is quiet. Kinder than his gaze cares to be. Shepard knows he's right, though.  
  
"Yeah, okay. I meant it. But I don't just snap for no reason." Shepard responds as calmly as he can, but he can feel the first pinpricks of panic settling in at the prospect of driving Scott away from his reach. That would make Andromeda unbearable, and Shepard knows it.  
  
"I got overloaded. Too much. Just-- too much." Shepard tries to explain, but he just drops his gaze to the floor, Scott's eyes burning cold straight through him.  
  
Across the room, Scott feels cold without Shepard's eyes on him, the medbay suddenly growing to an infinite expanse where he can't quite reach Shepard. He hates it.  
  
He hates it, and his feet take him closer to Shepard, close enough to feel his warmth, close enough to pull him in with shaking hands, and he's a little surprised that Shepard lets him. Gaining a little more confidence, Scott presses for Shepard's thoughts.  
  
"Cade, _talk_ to me. What can I do? How can we help?" Scott slips easily into Shepard's warm, solid presence, and it's like he never left. Scott resists the twitch at his fingers, wanting to curl them up in Shepard's shirt and pretend they're hiding in their bay on Arcturus Station.  
  
But Scott had counted on leaving the past behind, not bringing it with him.  
  
Of course, he always would have, in some small way. Scott's a sentimental bastard, and there's not a part of him that wouldn't have carried some memory, somewhere, somehow. He knows that, and he's taken to thanking whatever stars out there managed to bring Shepard back, however selfish that might be.  
  
_You're not the selfish one here_ , Scott wants to tell him, _I am._  
  
But he keeps quiet, waiting for Shepard to answer. His careful hands make their way up to his shoulders, almost absently, but not quite. Scott knows what he's doing, even if he looks the other way. Shepard almost seems to relax under his touch, and it spurs him on further, until he feels the low hum of Shepard's voice thrumming under his fingertips.  
  
"Of all the things Cerberus could've fixed, they could've started with the clusterfuck in my _head_." Shepard mumbles, words tight, tugging painfully at Scott's heart with every syllable. Shepard's voice splinters over Scott's skin in fragile shards, digging in along every nerve, sparking like a live wire.  
  
"No," Scott sighs and shakes his head firmly, fingers curling around the back of Shepard's neck, " _No_ , you idiot. Of all the things, you don't need fixing. Not even a little."  
  
Shepard looks up at him, slowly, earnestly. Gold curls around Scott's heart and pulls, and he skips a breath. The way he's looking at him is... god, Scott wants to keep it, right there. Freeze this snapshot and have nothing else. Scott knows he'd be happy with that.  
  
"You sure about that?" Cade speaks again, pulling Scott out of his freeze-frame. Scott just smiles, quiet and confident, and just for him.  
  
"I'm sure. You wouldn't be Cade otherwise."  
  
Scott pauses, fingers brushing the close shave at the nape of Shepard's neck, and he tilts his head to look at Shepard, properly, catching his gaze and holding it there.     
  
"You wouldn't be that guy on Arcturus who knew what I was going through."  
  
Shepard manages a quiet, gentle smile back at him, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle and chases away every hard line of command from his face. It's not bright, not the same wicked grin he's so used to seeing, not entirely there. He's tired, Scott can tell, but seeing this is enough. Knowing that Shepard - _Cade_ \- is there is enough.    
  
"So, I'm just 'that guy', huh?" Shepard's smile quickly turns teasing, but Scott knows there's a loaded question there. His stomach twists into knots at the thought of answering it, so Scott just laughs quietly, moving to sit next to Shepard on the cot instead, reluctantly dropping his hands from Shepard's shoulders as he does.  
  
"No. You're not just 'that guy' Cade, but I don't know what you are. Not yet." Scott admits, voice dropping between them. Shepard nods, a muted look of understanding crossing his expression for a moment. Scott nudges him gently, pulling his attention back.  
  
"What do you wanna be?" he presses, and Shepard gives him another impossible look. Unreadable for a second, and then it melts away into a familiar smirk, and Scott knows he's got a terrible line waiting on the other side of that question. Scott just sniggers, bracing himself, but before Shepard gets a word in, the medbay doors whir open again, revealing Lexi, now armed with a fresh mug of coffee and her datapad.  
  
"Oh!" she stops dead when she sets one foot back in her medbay, eyes landing on Scott and Shepard, perched on the same metal cot with barely enough room for both of them. Lexi doesn't quite look like she knows where to start, so Scott helpfully steps in.  
  
"Good news, we're alive!" Scott peers at her from around Shepard, "But that might also be considered bad news if you're feeling stressed lately."  
  
Lexi just fixes Scott with a withering glare, and Shepard snorts, his attempt at hiding a laugh backfiring completely as he turns to Scott with another wicked smirk.  
  
"Scott, let's be real: we're always bad news."


	26. Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, sorry for the delay on this one! I was kind of just making vague hand gestures while Shepard dithered about and decided where he wanted to go next, eventually we turned up somewhere. Nevertheless, onwards and upwards, right? ;o; plssendhelp

Of all the things to be running into, he doesn't expect a krogan to be setting up camp in the galley. Shepard barely sets a foot through the door before Drack almost flattens him against the wall, and Shepard yelps, ducking back out of the room.  
  
"Oh, it's you." Drack rumbles, and Shepard swears he's laughing at him. Grumbling, Shepard's brow furrows as he spares Drack a sharp look from the safety of the doorway.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he demands, words coloured with mild irritation. Drack just chuckles again, turning to face Shepard, yellow eyes catching the bright light in the galley.  
  
"Oh, the clouds parted and the kett keeled over. Figured I'd better hold up my end of the deal." Drack shrugs loosely, lips curling around a feral grin. Shepard just narrows his eyes, leaning against the doorframe. Sure, he'd been out for most of the ride back to the Tempest, but he certainly doesn't remember Drack showing up at any point. He'd have to ask Scott.  
  
"So long as we don't re-enact any crash landings." Shepard grouses.  
  
"Like I said, you humans are squishy. These things aren't a problem when you have redundant systems."  
  
Drack potters around the small room, and Shepard vaguely wonders just why he's chosen _here_ of all places. Surely, the cargo bay has more room? Sighing, Shepard mumbles an excuse for coffee, and manages to limp into the space Drack leaves after he settles down in the booth seats, bumping the table out of the way with a grunt.  
  
"Doc patched you up, huh?" Drack asks, and Shepard spares a glance over his shoulder after he pours out a steaming mug of coffee.  
  
"Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way." Shepard snorts, but there's no bite behind it. Drack rumbles out another not-quite-laugh, and Shepard turns back to his coffee to pick it up, hands curling eagerly around the warmth.  
  
"You're welcome, kid." Drack chortles, and Shepard just sighs.  
  
"You krogan are very similar, aren't you?" he throws to Drack, who looks affronted for a brief second before his lips curl into a fierce smile again. Shepard smirks, despite himself, and finds the room suddenly easier to breathe in than before.  
  
"Heh. You know many?" Drack shoots back, and Shepard limps over to the other end of the booth seats, sliding onto the seat with careful, stiff movements.  
  
"Met a few. Worked with one for a while." Shepard tells him, but he deliberately keeps his distance from the memory, and only chooses to give a name, "Urdnot Wrex."  
  
Drack blinks a few times, and Shepard could almost label his expression as one of surprise. He takes a sip of his coffee while he waits for Drack to respond, and winces as the liquid burns his tongue.  
  
"Urdnot Wrex." Drack huffs, "Was sitting pretty on Tuchanka's throne when we left."  
  
Shepard contemplates the image for a moment, daring to dwell a little further in memory. Wrex showing up as leader doesn't surprise him at all, when he thinks about it. He had a drive beyond killing for credits, eyes set on a better future for the krogan.  
  
"Heard all about your little standoff on Virmire, when you destroyed that facility." Drack adds, slowly, gauging Shepard's reaction, "You know, where you destroyed that genophage cure."  
  
Shepard's head snaps up, eyes landing on Drack with a new fire. He almost snarls, but Drack holds up a claw, stopping him.  
  
"Easy, I'm not complaining. You did the right thing, kid. If you'll take an old man's word for it." Drack rumbles, and Shepard relaxes, shoulders easing as he sits back, nodding in acknowledgement of Drack's words.  
  
"Wait, you know who I am?" Shepard looks back over at the krogan, who just shrugs.  
  
"Your Pathfinder guy, it's all he talks about. Shepard this, Shepard that." Drack snorts. Shepard just blinks. _That_ , he hadn't really expected to hear. It warms him from the inside in a way the coffee doesn't, but it comes with an edge of quiet, ebbing concern. He isn't really Shepard, not here.  
  
Can't afford to be.  
  
Shepard, back home, threw caution to the wind to get the job done because he knew there'd be solid ground beneath his feet.  
  
Out here, he doesn't have that.  
  
"Actually, most of them talk about you." Drack adds as an afterthought, and Shepard sighs heavily, rubbing at his temples.  
  
"Yeah. I wasn't exactly meant to be here." Shepard explains, but Drack cuts him off with another pointed glance and a grin.  
  
"You _do_ look well for dead."  
  
Shepard laughs, and the sound feels foreign to him in this place. Too loud, too different. He quietens quickly, and the room falls into a more comfortable silence. Drack seems content to sit there with his own thoughts, while he leaves Shepard to his.  
  
In the end, Shepard finishes his coffee and leaves the room with a quiet mutter of thanks to Drack for the conversation, and he hopes that Urdnot Wrex found his future for the krogan, somewhere and somehow.  
  
Chewing over his dull thoughts, Shepard doesn't really have a destination in mind as he limps through the Tempest. He wants to find a place to go, to hide away and get some quiet, but there's nowhere that belongs to him, not here. Everyone else seems to have made their space already, and Shepard just feels completely out of place.  
  
Eventually, he just wanders into the cargo bay. It's almost familiar, almost there. It's a workspace reminiscent of his old bay back on Arcturus, with tools scattered across the work-surfaces and the Nomad propped up on hydraulic lifts, the rattle of bolts being unscrewed reaching Shepard's ears as he draws closer.  
  
"Oh, you shit." a voice follows a clang of metal, and Shepard crouches down, a little awkwardly due to his strapped up leg. He finds the voice belongs to their engineer, and he shoots Gil a quiet smile when Gil almost startles at the sight of him.  
  
"Christ, what are you sneaking about for?" Gil sighs wearily, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He leaves a splotch of black streaking across his left cheek from his oily hands, and Shepard just snickers.  
  
"Missed a spot." Shepard points, and Gil waves a hand vaguely in Shepard's direction as he climbs out of the pit to sit on the edge, brushing his hands together to get rid of the excess dirt.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Hilarious." Gil sighs, pulling his sleeve down to wipe at his face instead, and it only serves to make it worse. Shepard shakes his head at Gil, moving stiffly to let his legs hang over the edge of the pit.  
  
"Sounds like you had a rough ride." Gil gestures at the strapped up leg, and Shepard grimaces.  
  
"You could say that. This bastard didn't help much either." Shepard gestures at the Nomad sitting above them, eyes wandering over the elaborate chassis design. He's already drawing up his own blueprints, wondering how much tweaking they could try.  
  
"Hey, now, don't hurt her feelings." Gil drawls, but his smirk gives him away. He rubs the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders free from the strain of being hunched up under the chassis.  
  
"Honestly, we could do with a suspension upgrade." Shepard sighs, reaching up to fiddle with a loose bolt on the supports.  
  
"You do it, then." Gil challenges, and Shepard looks at him with a quirked eyebrow, almost smirking back, but not quite.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You heard me. I can see you're good with your hands." Gil's grin turns devilish in an instant, and Shepard can't help his incredulous laugh.  
  
"Besides, you'll go stir crazy on this ship in days if you don't find something to do." Gil throws back to him as he gets up, picking up a rag to wipe his hands with. Shepard just watches him, contemplating the offer.  
  
A rattle and hum behind them draws Shepard's attention to a door opening, and Vetra's frame fills the space as she steps through, mandibles flicking as she lays eyes on her company.  
  
"Ah. I hope you boys are playing nicely." Vetra hums, stalking over to the workbench to pull up an inventory console.  
  
"Vetra, when am I ever not nice?" Gil snickers, tossing the rag back off to the side as he inspects the Nomad from his new vantage point.  
  
"When you're kicking my ass at poker, Brodie." Vetra counters drily, not looking up from her console.  
  
Shepard's pleasantly surprised at how comfortable he feels here, and he's willing to test the waters a little longer. If he's going to get on with these people, he supposes this is as good a place as any to start.    
  
"Poker, huh?" Shepard looks over his shoulder to Gil, who fixes him with a challenge.  
  
"Offer still stands, Shepard. Let's see how many talents you really do have." Gil chuckles warmly, offering a hand to help Shepard up. Shepard takes it gratefully, and shakes it, giving Gil a wicked smirk in return.  
  
"Alright. You're on."  
  
"Good. I should go and get cleaned up first, though, unless you're into dealing oily cards. In which case, I won't judge." Gil quirks an eyebrow, and Shepard just shakes his head with a quiet laugh.  
  
"I play dirty, but not that kind of dirty." Shepard quips with a playful wink before he turns to head back out of the bay, shooting a nod in Vetra's direction as he heads for the lift. Vetra just chuckles at him, cocking her head slightly his way as she swipes at the console.  
  
"Well, if you can't win by numbers, I'm sure bluffing will be more your speed, Shepard." Vetra throws, and Shepard just smirks down at her before he makes his way back along the upper level, and towards the research room.  
  
He doesn't know if he's imagining it, but the air feels much colder up here. He shivers as the doors slide open, a rush of air goosefleshing his skin. He vaguely considers finding something more substantial than a thin t-shirt and combat trousers, but Lexi's voice finds him before he can set foot any further.  
  
"Hello, Shepard." she greets him casually, but Shepard tenses up and he's half expecting another series of twenty questions. She just quirks her mouth into a wry smile when he looks at her.  
  
"It's good to see you up." Lexi hums over her datapad, setting it down by the research console after swiping it into standby.  
  
"No questions?" Shepard asks carefully, eyes narrowed while he regards her with the kindest suspicion he can muster. She shoots him a withering glare in return.  
  
"You are just as bad as Ryder." Lexi comments, and Shepard can't help but feel some of that might have been his fault. He manages a sheepish smile, small and quiet, and Lexi sighs, but her eyes are kind when they find him again.  
  
"Sorry, doc. I used to get grilled by my old ship medic all the time. Old habits." Shepard rubs his arm, trying to get some warmth back to his skin. It doesn't do a thing. The cold runs bone deep, sitting in memory instead of flesh, and Shepard hates the feeling. Talking helps, but sometimes his teeth chatter on a word, and his shoulders hunch in rigid shape, and his fingers curl in too tight. Then, talking becomes painful.  
  
Luckily, Shepard isn't quite there yet. Lexi looks curious, hip leaning against the console as she folds her arms loosely.  
  
"You got into trouble, I take it?" she asks, and Shepard can't help his quiet laugh. She isn't wrong, but... _trouble_ might not be the word he'd use.  
  
"Of a sort." Shepard admits, fingers curling around his bicep reflexively. His nails dig into skin when he chews over what to say next. "I wasn't the easiest person to have around."  
  
Lexi nods, somewhere between a show of understanding, and a gesture for him to continue. Shepard takes it tentatively, moving slowly closer to the circular console.  
  
"Probably won't be the easiest person to have around here, either." he glances up at Lexi, lips quirked into a lackluster smile. She frowns for a second, but the mask is back as soon as Shepard blinks.  
  
"I think the crew are more than willing to give you a chance, Shepard." Lexi reminds him gently, and Shepard finds himself feeling a little warmer.


	27. Background Noise

Turns out, Lexi's right. The crew seem amenable to having Shepard around, and he's spent the last week stepping in and out of everyone's little niches, feeling less like a stowaway and more like his old self as the days catch up.  
  
Shepard's on ship lockdown following his bumpy ride on Eos, and he knows better than to argue with the ship doctor when she's the one doing his bloodwork for the foreseeable future. Despite his reservations about Andromeda, the Tempest is beginning to feel like something he used to know, and it's making the thought of Andromeda easier to bear.  
  
Andromeda looks less of a gaping void and more of a vast chasm instead, now with some kind of solid ground on the horizon line. Day by day, that gap grows smaller. It's taking its sweet time, but Shepard's got all the time in this galaxy to spare.  
  
That's one thing in his favour out here, he supposes.  
  
Shifting in his chair, Shepard spares a glance at the empty crew quarters, now looking more homely than when they'd departed. Liam's shirts are balled up in the corner, and Shepard swears the pile grows bigger every time Vetra crows at him to put a shirt on. He's pretty sure the plushies belong to Suvi, and Gil's left his playing cards splayed out on the crew desks along the wall. Cora's books are dog-eared and upturned on her bed, and it reminds Shepard a little too much of Ashley's old habits. He turns away with his good mood soured, and fixes his eyes back on the orange glow of the datapad in front of him.  
  
It's lines of code for the Nomad adjustments. Shepard draws his eyes over them again, picking out shapes in the fragmented lines. A tweak for the suspension, a mod for the steering, a fix for the enviro-shields. It all adds up into a fair amount of work, but given how Lexi's all but breathing down his neck about not setting foot off this ship unless they're at port, Shepard knows Gil isn't wrong: he needs something to do. He can already feel the edge of irritation settling in over his skin, he's itching to move, to take something apart with his hands and find that old familiar comfort in putting something back together.  
  
The door to the crew room slides open, and Shepard looks up to find the visitor.  
  
"Studying hard?" Gil quirks an eyebrow at Shepard when he walks in, pulling his gloves off and chucking them onto his bunk, lacing his fingers together and stretching until his shoulders pop. Shepard grimaces when he hears the noise, and he nudges the datapad away, resting his hands on the small table.  
  
"Me and studying? We don't get on very well." Shepard rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair. Gil smirks, but doesn't say anything as he saunters through the room, a spring in his step that never really leaves. Shepard has a feeling coffee might be involved in that.  
  
"So, what? You're just reading for fun?" Gil asks, pulling a fresh set of clothes out of his crate. He disappears into the bathroom, Shepard's reply following him.  
  
"God, _no_. That's even worse."  
  
Gil's laughter reaches Shepard, muffled by the door. Shepard manages a half-smile, turning back to the datapad and switching it to standby while he waits for Gil to return. He taps idly on the metal surface of the table, a staccato rhythm to match the buzzing in his brain. The gentle thud of the door opening disrupts his pace, and he spares a glance to see Gil in casuals, picking up his deck of cards with nimble hands.  
  
"Want to make up for last time?" Gil asks him nonchalantly, and Shepard huffs. Gil had wrecked him without batting an eyelid, running on his own complicated algorithm, numbers that completely tore down Shepard's bluff before he could say 'I fold.'  
  
"You're gonna make me play anyway." Shepard snorts, but he moves the datapad off the table out of Gil's way as the man walks over, shuffling the cards with a wicked gleam to his eye when he looks at Shepard.  
  
"Hey now, don't say I never give you a choice." Gil smirks, "You can walk away, Shepard. No shame in that."  
  
Shepard just narrows his eyes up at him.  
  
"Deal the fucking cards, Brodie."  
  
Gil chuckles warmly as he slides into his seat, relaxing easily in Shepard's company. Shepard feels better for it, and tries to do the same, uncurling his fingers from his red-knuckle fists on the table.  
  
The rhythmic crack of cards being pulled from the deck is a soothing sound, and Shepard loses himself in it while he watches Gil deal the five cards each, setting a row out face down on the table in between them, and placing the rest of the deck to one side. Shepard takes up his cards and tries to make some sense of them, all the while noting Gil's slight quirks.  
  
He always taps the table twice when he's pleased with his hand. Doesn't tap at all when it's a bad deal. He chews his bottom lip too, but Shepard's pretty sure that's just a bluffing tactic to make him look nervous.  
  
Shepard waits for Gil to call his bet. He's keenly aware of his own knee bobbing up and down, foot bouncing while he waits impatiently, and Shepard just grits his teeth, scratching at the stubble on his chin.  
  
"Hm. Alright. Betting ten." Gil says, careful and clipped. Shepard watches as he slides the plastic chips over from his pile, and then pulls his hand straight back to his cards. Doesn't stop to drum his fingers, and Shepard raises an eyebrow.  
  
"I see that bet, raise you ten for twenty." Shepard pushes his own chips over, careful not to meet Gil's hawk-eyed glance. Gil's quiet laugh sounds again and he flips two cards face up from their draw deck.  
  
"Do you always do that?" Gil asks, and Shepard finally relents and looks at him, mouth set in a tight line.  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"You go in, guns blazing. Put on the confident show, but do you really have a good hand?" Gil smirks again, and Shepard just scowls at him. His cards aren't great, only a one-pair hand, possibly verging on three of a kind if the draw deck turns in his favour. Shepard just sucks in his cheek, biting down instead of answering. Gil sits back, resuming the betting with another ten to make thirty.  
  
Shepard hesitates this time.  
  
"See, now you're thinking too much." Gil tells him, and Shepard just folds his cards without a word.  
  
"Alright, I fold." Shepard sighs sharply, fixing Gil with a glare that's more expectant than angry. Gil just turns his cards over to reveal a no-pair hand, completely worthless. Shepard groans, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand when he realizes what Gil's done.  
  
"All that bravado, but do you ever actually follow through on it?" Gil challenges him easily, and Shepard just finds himself meeting Gil with a cocked head and a lazy, wolfish grin.  
  
"When I'm not playing games."  
  
Gil raises his eyebrows, sitting back in his chair with a quiet hum.  
  
"Ah, so that's what this whole thing is with our charming Pathfinder? A game?"  
  
Shepard blanches, eyes wide. His mouth opens and shuts without a single sound until he finally forces out a word.  
  
"What?" he asks, the sound brittle with a quiet uncertainty that Gil easily picks up on. The engineer sighs, sweeping up the cards from the table with a casual gesture that makes Shepard feel as though he's overreacting entirely. He can't help it.  
  
"You heard." Gil throws back, voice steady, still warm. Shepard understands there's no ill intent there, but he still doesn't know how to proceed; his mind scatters on a thousand different replies, and nearly every one of them sounds the same.  
  
"No- _No_ , it's-- What do you even know?" Shepard fumbles for his words, careless and desperate, afraid that the ice under his feet is about to crack along with the rest of his cool facade.  
  
"Hate to break it to you, Shepard, but it's really not hard to figure out that you know each other well." Gil sighs, almost exasperated, but he shuffles the deck of cards with nonchalance as he watches for Shepard's next reaction.  
  
Shepard hesitates, again.  
  
"Well, yeah. We're good friends, we served together for a while. Of course we know each other." Shepard points out defensively, rubbing his arm nervously as he watches Gil in return and notes the way his lips quirk and his eyes squint, almost amused.  
  
"Right. Good friends." Gil nods, but he doesn't look anywhere near convinced. Shepard just swallows, throat dry in an instant. His heart hammers in his chest when he thinks too much about it.  
  
He's got no reason to lie to Gil. The man's been nothing but honest to him since he got here, even as far as delivering the dirt on the Nexus to Shepard's own eyes and ears. It's just become instinct. A quiet, painful instinct, the kind that bites from the inside when he skirts too close to something that shouldn't have happened the way it did.  
  
Shepard's left almost everything else behind. Why keep this with him? He doesn't want to admit it.  
  
"I'd believe you if you didn't look like I just kicked you in the face." Gil draws him back, the cards neatly stacked now and set aside, next to Gil's clasped hands across the table. Shepard just looks at him, expression unreadable. He chews on his bottom lip instead of giving an immediate answer.  
  
"It's a long story." Shepard says, eventually, tired and resigned. Gil looks sympathetic for a fleeting moment, but then he smiles brightly and nods to the datapad that Shepard was looking at earlier.  
  
"Well, we have plenty of work to do. Background noise?" Gil suggests, and Shepard finds himself smiling, despite his grim mood. Gil's a genuine guy, even if he deflects the big stuff without so much as a second glance. He means well, and Shepard gets the distinct feeling that, if anyone on this ship was going to understand, it would be him. So he relents, nodding, slow and unsure.  
  
"Alright. Background noise." Shepard agrees, and for the first time, he feels like he has a place to go on the Tempest. A noisy, messy, chaotic place, but a place nonetheless.  
  


* * *

  
Scott groans as he climbs out of the Nomad, having spent another chaotic day racing across Eos in search of a Kett outpost, only to find it lingering just outside of their radiation-safe perimeter. Along with a failed mission, the Nomad had taken a beating and a half, and Scott spares a glance at the hull when he climbs out of the door and drops to the floor of the cargo bay.  
  
Scorched, dented, and most likely in need of more than just a patch job. He winces when he thinks of Gil's reaction.  
  
"Oh no. Did they let you drive?" Shepard's voice reaches him, and Scott turns to him, yanking his helmet off to fix him with an indignant glare. Before Scott can make a retort, there's a clanging behind him as Drack lumbers out of the vehicle with a great deal of effort, and then Vetra appears, yellow visor trained on Scott as her mandibles flicker.  
  
"Honestly, between Ryder and Drack, we're lucky we made it back in one piece." Vetra sounds weary as she follows Drack out of the Nomad, and Drack's low chuckle fills the open hangar bay. Shepard's own laughter joins him, closer now, and when Scott looks, Shepard's already inspecting the Nomad's battered hull.  
  
"Sounds like fun." Shepard says absently, running an expert hand over the dented metal plates. Gil joins the conversation moments later, sliding down the ladder with a whistle as he strides over, his tune stopping dead when he sees the wreck awaiting him.  
  
"Oh, Christ. Did they let _Ryder_ drive?" Gil asks defeatedly, and Shepard's low laughter is his only answer, along with Scott's angry stomping over to the armoury across the bay.  
  
"Scott!" Shepard calls, voice still bubbling with laughter, and Scott barely throws a glance over his shoulder.  
  
"You guys are _hilarious_. Really." Scott waves them off, shaking the sand off his helmet before he sets it down and gets to work on his boots.  
  
"Did I say something?" Gil snickers, crouching under the hull to inspect the damage Shepard's found. Shepard just chuckles and shakes his head.  
  
"The same thing I did before you showed up." Shepard explains, and Gil grins wickedly, fully enjoying his new repertoire of lines to wind Scott up with. The Pathfinder needs to be Scott, sometimes, and both Gil and Shepard know it.  
  
Scott wanders back over eventually, looking more than a little miffed. Shepard's amusement falters as he regards him closely, brow furrowing when he finds the slight downturn to his lip that gives him away.  
  
"Is everything okay?" Shepard asks, drawing Scott's attention to him. Scott looks at him for a moment before sighing, shrugging loosely.  
  
"We've just wasted a _day_ trying to find that kett base, dropped outside our radiation perimeter a few times and we couldn't get any closer. And now you guys have a busted up Nomad to fix, along with the rest of our problems." Scott rubs his forehead with a gloved hand, and Shepard can see the starkness of the dark circles beginning to form under his eyes.  
  
"It's not a day wasted if you found the base." Shepard tells him, eyes roving back over the Nomad. "And fixing this thing isn't hard."  
  
Scott looks almost grateful for a second, but he barely manages to stifle a yawn, and Gil raises an eyebrow at him.  
  
"You should grab some food and sleep." Shepard says, noting the way Scott's leaning against the hull, exhaustion weighing him down along with the rest of his armour. Scott just nods, contemplating the idea for a moment longer before he pushes himself off the Nomad and heads towards his quarters with sluggish steps. Shepard keeps an eye on him until he reaches the doors, and then he turns back to the Nomad, but not before Gil catches him with a knowing look.  
  
"What?" Shepard asks, and Gil just shakes his head with a quiet grin, pushing off to grab some of the kit they'd need to get the Nomad back in shape. Shepard just groans, letting his head rest against the cold, dusty metal of the hull with a dull thud.  
  
Obvious? Maybe a little more than he thought.


	28. Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short-but-important chapter for you guys, and things will pick up speed now that we're heading back into the main story in the next few chapters! 
> 
> And a special shoutout to alenkoblue/homoryder for dealing with my Gil problems like a trooper <3

The first conversation is the hardest.

The cargo bay is dark and empty save for Gil and Shepard, and their carefully constructed conversations slowly fall apart when Gil broaches the subject of Shepard's past. A few bright lights flicker steadily over their workspace, the harsh illumination pinning Shepard to the fragments of memory he dares to recall.

And when he finally starts to talk, Shepard stumbles over every other word and falls into brittle silence more times than he can count. Gil just works away under the Nomad, tweaking nuts and bolts along lines of code that Shepard's calling off a datapad in his blackened hands.

"The first time we met was because I had to drag him out of a fight." Shepard tells Gil, and Gil slides back out from the underbelly, eyebrow cocked and lips strung up in a smirk.

"What, flying punches and all?" Gil asks, and Shepard nods, swiping down on the datapad to calibrate Gil's adjustment on the nearby console he's standing over.

"He was the one throwing them." Shepard scoffs, "Got a call from Arcturus Command to sort it out. They didn't give a shit."

Gil whistles through his teeth, raising both eyebrows as he sits up to pick up a socket wrench.

"So our Pathfinder was, what? A loose cannon? Mouthy young upstart? Dashing rogue?" Gil presses, and Shepard snorts at Gil's suggested descriptions, shaking his head with a quiet smile that barely curves his lips.

"Just a pissed off soldier." Shepard simplifies, and he can see that first time so clearly in his mind. The way Scott had looked at him, expecting a fight; teeth bared and fists curled, blood on his knuckles. Those eyes of his had just been blank. Cold and blue and _empty_. There wasn't any real fight in him, just a quiet, unspoken will to survive.

"How did you deal with him?" Gil scratches at his stubble, rolling his neck to dislodge the ache starting to settle along his spine.

"I didn't deal with him, 'cause I knew he didn't start it. And I knew Arcturus Command were after him." Shepard knows he sounds bitter, and he _is_. The Alliance had been stacked against Scott from the day he started, simply because Alec Ryder's reputation had been smeared like a bloody mess on ground that wasn't worth walking over.

"Oh?" Gil hums curiously, lying back down to shift back under the Nomad, the familiar clank and grind of unscrewing bolts filling the space under the chassis moments later.

"Yeah. Alec Ryder wasn't a name you wanted to be associated with back then." Shepard discloses with a reluctant edge to his heavy words, "I only knew him 'cause I trained under him for a while. N7 stuff."

"Right. Ryder's dad. Cora talks about him like he was some kind of inspiring leader, all this 'first step for mankind' blah-de-blah. You know--" Gil cuts himself off, not quite sure what he's trying to say, but Shepard gets it.

"A visionary?" Shepard throws the word and Gil exclaims from under the chassis, a vague agreement, "Yeah, he kind of was. But he was selfish, and Scott ended up paying for that."

* * *

The second conversation comes easier, even if it hits even closer to home than Shepard expects.

Shepard stands in the pit this time, pulling the rearmost axle loose while the Nomad sits on hydraulic suspension. Gil takes the part from Shepard with a muttered thanks, disappearing out of Shepard's sight to put the axle on a workbench.

"How did _you_ end up on Arcturus?" Gil asks casually, voice filtering in through the gap between the Nomad and the pit. Shepard scratches at his neck, thinking over his reply. In truth, he was never told why the Alliance pulled him from front line service after Torfan, but given the fallout from those raids, Shepard can take a guess at why.

"Alliance didn't trust me." Shepard sneers, pulling himself up out of the pit to sit on the edge in the cooler air of the cargo bay. "Came back from the Torfan raids, last one standing. That kind of thing fucks up a lot of soldiers."

"Well, that's understandable." Gil looks over at Shepard, brow knitted into an expression almost resembling concern. Shepard shrugs, dropping his gaze down to his hands, scrubbing absently at the build up of dirt and grease.

"Maybe, but they wouldn't tell me that." Shepard points out, a little sharply, "They just posted me to Arcturus as a mechanic. It ruffled a few feathers. Nobody liked having an N7 there."

Gil shoots him a quizzical look.

"You know, I really don't understand the Alliance." he says, unabashedly, and Shepard actually laughs. Quiet and uncertain, but still a laugh.

"Ten years in service, and I never did either." Shepard offers, and Gil flashes him a smile before he turns to work on the axle.

"Ten years." Gil sighs, and Shepard catches the slightest feeling of disbelief colouring those words, "I couldn't stick something that long. And all those rules and regulations... Christ, no. I'd be long gone before they could boot my ass out -- which, I'll be honest, would _not_ take long."

Shepard pulls himself back into the pit, getting to work on securing the loose bolts from the removal.

"I thought like that for a while. You start to find people that make you want to stick it out, though." Shepard voices candidly, straining to tighten the first few bolts to keep the middle axle in place.

"People like...?" Gil's reply is loaded, and Shepard just smirks, humourless and almost aggravated at how easily he'd walked into that one.

"Let's just say pathfinding isn't the only thing he's good at." Shepard allows the slip-up to play out, and his smirk turns into an amused smile when he hears the clanging as Gil drops one of his wrenches.

* * *

Conversation number three turns out to be the trainwreck both had been hoping to avoid.

Gil doesn't give anything away, and Shepard finds himself in a mire of his own problems instead of feeling better for sharing them. It doesn't have to be substantial, Shepard thinks, just... _something_. Anything. The tiniest fragment of Gil's history would be enough. Just so he feels like he isn't caught up in his own mess again.

"Where are you from?" Shepard throws the question to Gil, breaking their studious silence while they look over an array of holoscreens, each with a different perspective on a Nomad part. Gil pauses for a moment, lips pursing as he puts together an answer.

"Earth." is the only answer he gives, and Shepard shoots him a curious look. He doesn't look like he wants to say any more.

"Same here." Shepard tries to lighten the mood, but the tension's already sunk, collaring them both into an awkward silence. Gil clears his throat, picking up a datapad and flicking through it.

"The accent gives it away. You're a Brit, aren't you?" Gil tries to sidestep the original point, but Shepard pulls him straight back.

"I asked first, stop deflecting." Shepard shoots back, and he doesn't know why he's irritated. He's got no real reason to be other than his own uncertainty, but the way Gil is looking at him, he almost wants the challenge.

"I'm not the only one doing that." Gil doesn't give him the satisfaction, turning on his heel to cross the room, leaving a brittle air of confrontation in his wake. Shepard bristles, eyes following Gil's back.

"Why'd you offer to talk if you aren't going to share?"

"I'm not very good at sharing." Gil drawls, and Shepard just scoffs incredulously, leaving the conversation hanging by a thread.

"Alright. Have it your way." Shepard pushes himself off from the console, turning and heading out of the door into the cargo bay. He lets the cool air rush over his skin now humming with thin annoyance, and he heads for the research room, intending on busying himself with gun modifications instead.

It's not until hours later that Shepard hears from Gil again, woken from a fitful sleep by his omnitool buzzing over his wrist. He opens the holo, finding an unread message blinking in front of him. Shepard checks the time on a whim, and balks when he sees the orange digits spelling out 03:24AM in front of him.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" Shepard groans quietly, rubbing his eyes as he sits up to read the message, careful not to disturb the other bunks.

_Sorry. I was kind of an ass earlier. I have coffee and cheap whiskey and an empty cargo bay...? - Gil_

Shepard scrubs at his face, trying to wake himself up. He swipes his holo off and climbs out of his bunk, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and reaching for a shirt before he slips out of the door quietly, into the dim light of the central galley. He pulls his shirt on as the cold air hugs his skin, and finds his way back down a familiar path to the cargo bay.

Half the lights are off, and the engine room doors are shut. Shepard casts a quick glance around the bay until his eyes land on a familiar shock of red hair and bright eyes. Gil manages to look sheepish as Shepard approaches, but he greets him with a steaming mug of coffee and gestures the bottle of whiskey in his other hand.

"That's not healthy." Shepard snorts, but he holds the mug for Gil to pour a measure of the amber liquid in. Screwing the cap back on, Gil sets the whiskey down and picks up his own spiked coffee with a shrug.

"Never claimed to be." Gil responds wryly, sitting down sloppily on a ramshackle sofa that Liam had claimed. Shepard follows, settling down on the opposite end with a heavy, tired sigh as he brings the mug to his lips. The steam warms his face, the bitter smell of coffee lulling him into alertness.

"You got my message. And my apology." Gil almost asks, but Shepard thinks it sounds like a statement, a confirmation, more than anything. Shepard just nods, sipping gingerly at his coffee.

Gil breathes a sigh of almost-relief, if Shepard had to place it, and he takes a sip at his own drink before turning to Shepard, hands clasped firmly around the mug. Shepard watches, resting his own cup on the arm of the sofa.

Gil breaks the silence, eventually, and the fourth conversation turns into the conversation that both of them had been waiting for. Shepard's content to listen as Gil tries to spell out something of his history, falling into the same stumbling words and awkward pauses that Shepard had done previously.

And Shepard is nothing less than grateful to find another friend in Andromeda. He tells Gil as much, and Gil just salutes him with his drink and a tired grin.

"Here's to being reluctantly and painfully honest about shit." Gil almost slurs, a heady mix of alcohol and exhaustion catching up with him, and Shepard just snorts.

"To being reluctantly and painfully honest about shit." Shepard sighs, bringing his mug to clink shrilly against Gil's, and they down the last of their drink in companionable silence.


	29. Overdrive

Lurking around engineering has become Shepard's natural haunt, in between sparse conversations thrown to the cargo deck where Vetra and Liam like to hang out. Gil's always there, always with a welcoming grin and another set of questions that aren't quite as invasive as Lexi's. Shepard prefers that.  
  
Today's no exception. Shepard leans casually in the doorway, an ear turned to the conversation on the cargo deck, but eyes turned on Gil's back as the engineer fiddles with a panel.   
  
"So, you know, I told him where he could stick that offer." Gil rattles off the tail end of his conversation, Shepard half-following. He's not in a great place today, and his fidgeting won't stop playing along to the static on his brain.   
  
"Ah. I bet that went down well." Shepard quirks an eyebrow as Gil turns to him, shrugging loosely, a wrench held in one hand while his omnitool holo glows on the other.  
  
"As things are wont to do on the Nexus." Gil snorts derisively, shaking his head. "That place was a mess."  
  
"Still is, no?" Shepard throws back, pushing himself off the doorframe to wander further into the engineering room. He likes the rolling light of the drive core flashing his peripheral, almost a balm for the rest of the noise in the room. Wandering over to a work surface, he picks up a cold metal bolt, rolling it in his hands while Gil's voice fills the rest of the room.  
  
"Pretty much. Point is, the Nexus was chock full of people who couldn't get what they wanted, and leadership had no plans to give them any leeway, anytime soon." Gil explains, hunching back over the floor panel. Shepard turns to watch, a keen eye roving over the cables running under the panel. Probably a loose wire, giving the way the engineering console flickers in and out intermittently.   
  
"Right. No stable ground, too much pressure. Someone was going to blow a gasket eventually." Shepard pieces together the rest with a slow exhale, finally beginning to understand just how the mutiny had managed to almost cripple the Initiative before they'd even started.   
  
"Yep." Gil pops the sound, dropping the wrench to the floor to reach in and pull at a cable instead. He tugs something free, and pulls it out to inspect the damage. A frayed end.   
  
"What the _hell?_ " Gil frowns, turning the chewed cable with a wildly bemused expression planted on his face. Shepard walks closer to get a better look.  
  
"Well, I think you have a stowaway." Shepard snickers, noting the tiny chew marks on the rest of the wire leading back under the panel.   
  
"Aw, Shepard, you have a stowaway friend!" Gil throws back, and Shepard gives him a shove as he stands up with a laugh that fills the room. The stowaway line had turned into an inside joke far too quickly, Gil's quick humour matching Shepard's own with an ease neither had really expected.   
  
Behind them, the door whirs open, and they both turn to find the Pathfinder watching them with a quizzical look. Gil's sniggering only makes Shepard struggle to hide his laughter, and Scott just sighs when he steps into the room, arms folding across his chest.  
  
"Do you guys ever actually _do_ any work?" Scott asks, but his tone is light-hearted, Shepard can tell.  
  
"Hey, I'm not employed by anyone. Can't be slacking if I don't have anything to do." Shepard smirks at Scott, whose quiet smile in return makes Shepard feel better than he's felt all day.  
  
"Nah, you officially declared yourself in service to my astronomical engineering talents the minute you said you knew how to fix the Nomad." Gil throws over his shoulder, pulling out more of the affected wire to find the real extent of the damage.   
  
"Hey, Scott knows too." Shepard retorts quickly, moving to kneel down by the panel and help Gil, despite his earlier comment.   
  
"He already has a job." Gil snorts, and Shepard glances back up to Scott to find him watching them with raised eyebrows and a wry smirk instead of his smile.   
  
"That's true." Shepard admits. Scott walks over to see what they're doing, crouching down in the space between Gil and Shepard. Shepard pretends not to notice how obvious that is.  
  
"Something's chewing through our wires." Shepard tells Scott, who looks almost as though he knows something. Shepard fixes him with a look, eyebrow raised, and Scott sits back with a huff.  
  
"Yeah, Vetra was complaining about something getting into her dry food stores."   
  
"Someone ate her Blast-Ohs? Mercy on the poor soul." Gil says, voice rumbling with a not-so hidden laugh.   
  
"Hey, Blast-Ohs are _good!_ Just because you don't know what breakfast is like the rest of us--" Scott's voice pitches with a lively mix of humour and indignance, and the sound is almost soothing for Shepard. This entire conversation is a raucous reminder of his days on Arcturus, and he'd do almost anything to have those days back. When he looks at Scott again, he finds a familiar kind of nostalgia written in his blue eyes. Shepard's too stubborn to hope for much, but... it's hard not to wonder whether they're in the same place, right now.     
  
"Coffee _is_ breakfast." Gil's quip brings them both crashing back into the room, and Shepard almost starts at the sharpness of Gil's voice against his fleeting memory.  
  
"No, it really isn't." Scott sighs wearily, the quirk at his lip giving away his amusement.   
  
"Well, we should probably try to find the culprit before it chews through something critical," Shepard brings them both back to the point, gesturing at the chewed wires clasped in Gil's gloved hand, "I don't know about you, but I don't fancy inadvertent death by tiny rodent."   
  
"Yeah, I'm with Cade on that. Barely two weeks in, and we get blitzed by a rat." Scott agrees, playing idly with the edge of the floor panel that's been set aside.  
  
"Hey, it could be a mouse." Gil snickers, switching off his omnitool. Scott just rolls his eyes, waving him off with a flippant gesture.  
  
"Hamster." Shepard proposes, amusement spiking when he's greeted with two incredulous stares, "Trust me. Hamsters are dangerous."   
  
"Most days, I could listen to Commander Shepard and agree with him. Today? Not so much." Gil's snickering turns into another bout of full blown laughter as he pushes himself up, stalking over to his workplace to pick up a soldering iron. Shepard's indignant retort follows him, but it's lost in between the clattering of engineering tools and Scott's own laughter.   
  
"Soldering won't hold for long. Enough for a few jumps, maybe." Shepard says after a moment when they grow quiet, watching Gil walk back over. Gil nods in agreement, crouching back down to lie on his front, getting to work on the frayed ends of the cable.  
  
"Yeah, we'll need a pitstop soon, Ryder." Gil directs to Scott, who nods, absently chewing over his bottom lip.  
  
"Alright. We're en route to that signal we're tracking from the vault on Eos, hopefully we can just grab a stable navpoint and head back to the Nexus." Scott informs them, and Gil seems happy enough with that proposal.   
  
Shepard takes the wrench that Gil waves in his general direction, sitting back and bringing his arms to rest on his knees while he stands by. The metallic stench of the solder hits him harder than he expects, and he barely manages to hide a grimace. The engineering deck has become comfortably familiar in nearly every respect, but it's still not quite right; there's always something that sparks another live wire sitting under Shepard's skin with the wrong kind of jolt. It leaves him on edge, waiting to go into overload.  
  
"Shepard?" Scott's voice reaches him, muddied by Shepard's own thoughts, and he looks at the Pathfinder with a strange expression. Scott frowns for a second, but he doesn't press on the obvious concern.  
  
Before Scott manages to finish the rest of his sentence, a low rumble ripples through the ship, and Shepard feels the tremor that follows in its wake. He's on his feet in a blink, biotics humming over his skin as he stalks towards the door and onto the upper balcony, looking down into the cargo bay. Vetra's hanging onto the guard rail by the elevator, head snapping up at the sound of Shepard's footsteps, and he returns her expectant stare with a bewildered look of his own.  
  
"What's happening?" Shepard's hands curl around the cold metal of the upper guard rail, watching as Liam dives for a falling rack of firearms, just missing. The resounding clatter feels like nails scratching down Shepard's back, and he grits his teeth, trying to point himself to the root of the problem.  
  
All he can hear is the hum of that beam that tore through the Normandy.   
  
"We're on a collision course with unknown objects." Kallo's static-ridden voice hisses over the comms, and Shepard feels a rush of air as Scott hurtles past him, sprinting through the deck and down towards the bridge.  
  
"Make corrections! SAM, are you on this?" Scott's voice lingers in his wake, and Shepard pushes off the rail to turn back into engineering, fully realizing the implication of a bad collision course.   
  
They'd be dead in the water if those lines weren't soldered. They'd be drifting in open space-- _Stop thinking._  
  
"Well, shit." Gil throws a glance at Shepard when he runs back in, Shepard gesturing to the barely-functional console that's flickering with increasing urgency.   
  
"Get on the console; I'll solder the lines." Shepard barks out an order in a voice that belonged to the Commander, and Gil almost drops the solder iron when he jerks back up to see Shepard striding towards him.  
  
"What--" Gil barely manages to get a word out before Shepard's down on his front, already getting a point on the wires he needs to fix.  
  
"I can fix shit, but I can't read a ship, Brodie-- _move!_ " Shepard leaves him no room to argue, and Gil scrambles to his feet, dashing over to the console while Shepard works on soldering the frayed ends.   
  
"Collision is imminent." SAM's artificial voice whirs through the ship, somehow louder than the chaos. Shepard lets out a string of curses, interspersed by Gil shouting directions over his shoulder in between rebooting the console with hands flying across the interface.  
  
A violent lurch rocks the Tempest to a sudden stop, leaving the crew scurrying for purchase when the momentum drops.  
  
"What the fuck is he doing?" Gil half-turns, breath leaving him in sharp exhales. Shepard bites down against the shooting pain in his shoulder again, soldering the last few ends as quickly as he can with shaking hands.  
  
"I don't know--" Shepard hisses, dropping the iron when he's done, pushing himself to his feet as he looks at Gil.  
  
"SAM, open the comms shipwide." Shepard throws to the AI, and moments later, the full extent of their situation starts to filter into shape through static and jumbled voices.  
  
"Kett ships, a dozen-- no, _more_." Suvi's voice, Shepard realizes, and his stomach coils at the mention of the kett ships. They had no firepower for this, no relay jump, no nothing-- no way out.  
  
No way out.  
  
"They've got us pinned against the Scourge!" Kallo's panic is tangible, and Shepard finds himself missing the brazen confidence of his old helmsman. Joker would've called this a field day. Shepard grinds his teeth together as he listens.  
  
"If we hit that Scourge..." Gil shakes his head, mouth turned into a grim line. Shepard tries not to think of the implications.  
  
There's a flurry of voices over the comms in the next moment, led by Scott's own, clear-cut and icy through the static. Shepard doesn't pay attention to much else.  
  
There's another low rumble, lined with static this time, and it grates on every one of Shepard's nerves. A guttural voice rips through the sound, hitting him like a punch to the chest, reverberating in his bones with a ferocity that makes his stomach churn. This voice is _awful_.  
  
 _"Where is the one who activated the remnant?"_   
  
Shepard freezes, half-set on tearing through the ship to the bridge, but he can't move.   
  
_"Their DNA signature is there. Answer me."_  
  
Silence stretches through the ship for a moment longer, and Shepard can't shake the feeling those kett ships are ready to tear through the Tempest if Scott keeps delaying.   
  
"I'm Ryder. Captain of this ship, Pathfinder with the Initiative." Scott's voice sounds brittle, laden with doubt.   
  
_"You'll come with me."_ the other voice comes back, and Shepard almost lets out a growl of irritation, his breath hissing through his teeth as he thinks of all the ways he could try and get them out of here.   
  
He's not letting anybody take Scott.  
  
"Shit. Shit. Shit. He's locking our systems. _Fucking_ _shit_." Gil snaps, his usual composure shattering over the console in neon fragments, flickering dangerously. Shepard crosses the room to the console, eyes roving over the fragmented data as the knot in his gut curls tighter.   
  
"They've locked navigation--" Suvi sounds unsurprisingly rattled, and Shepard can only imagine the atmosphere on the bridge right now. Kallo interrupts with another dismal statement.  
  
"We're being steered into their ship."  
  
 _Into?_ Shepard balks. How big is this ship? Surely, they had the speed advantage... if they can just lift the lockdown, they could slip through a gap.  
  
Gil looks like he's thinking the same thing.  
  
"Just tell me what you want." Scott's crackles back over the comm, and Shepard waits.  
  
 _"I won't explain what you can't understand."_  
  
Shepard resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. No point in explaining their dominance over the lesser species, right? It stirs up a memory of Sovereign on Virmire, and Shepard desperately tries to block out anything beyond that. They need to get out of here. _Now_.  
  
The rest of the conversation over the comms is lost to the room when both Gil and Shepard find themselves watching every console flicker back into full functionality, and another lurch rips through the Tempest as it kicks into overdrive.


	30. New Horizons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge apologies for the big delay in this chapter! I've been away this week, and I'm also turning my focus to my MEBB fic so I'm gonna pre-emptively warn for some delays in the next few chapters, but hopefully they won't be too bad. 
> 
> In the meantime, maybe Cade will get his shit together B)

This is dangerous.  
  
Shepard almost laughs when he has to grab onto the guard rail as the Tempest turns on an arc that would shear most ships in two.   
  
_But not the Normandy_ , Shepard thinks.  
  
He misses the lines of that ship more than he lets himself admit. The half-skeleton, still in post-construction, cables everywhere, tacked into every alcove in a vain attempt at making the ship livable. The way the doors would whir slowly, the cutting-edge power systems running along careful circuits. The dim lights when they'd underestimated the power draw during FTL, the flicker of the holo interfaces when the stealth drive engaged. The Normandy was a marvel of engineering, but it was also entirely flawed in its design.   
  
_Never a ship so much like her commander,_ Anderson used to say, always with a bullet-forged smile and weary eyes.  
  
He lets the memory fade back into insignificance. Shepard steels himself as the draw takes over, pulling the Tempest into a pocket of uncharted space. Gil's skittering across the bay with nimble steps, managing to negate much of the lateral movement, hands flying over more interfaces than Shepard cares to understand.  
  
"SAM, the Scourge is going to burn through our shields if we don't stop." Gil warns, voice pitching low and steady, a bulwark of certainty against the throbbing noise of the drive core being pushed to its unfounded limits.   
  
It sounds far too close, far too real, far too much like a memory that sings an empty, echoing prelude to Shepard's death in between the stars.   
  
Shepard tears his attention away from the holos, eyes scanning the walls as the Tempest rights herself on her course, the room's gravity settling against the sudden inversion. Shepard lets go of the rail, recognizing the tell-tale signs of wear scraping the metal plates, and he follows them out of the engineering bay with a mumbled explanation to Gil, panic creeping in slowly.  
  
"See if it runs to the bridge." Gil tells him before he turns back to his screens, leaving Shepard to find the extent of the damage.  
  
His footfalls echo when he breaks into a jog, finding no comfort in the cold of the main deck. Shepard almost feels the grate of debris over the ship, and he grinds his teeth when the Tempest jolts and throws him off balance through the doors to the research room. He hits the metal wall, blinks, and for a moment he's back on the Normandy with Ashley shouting at him; desperate, almost hopeful, but knowing - just _knowing_ that he wasn't coming back. Her voice turns into crackling flames, licking at his back, clawing, sweat beading on his neck when he pushes himself away from the wall and opens his eyes again.  
  
It grows quiet and cold, and the only thing he feels is his heart pounding in his ribcage.  
  
Shepard wills himself to glance over his shoulder up to the comm deck of the Tempest, finding a writhing mass of orange and black curling around the viewing windows he can see. His eyes widen as he tries to take it all in.  
  
This is far closer than they'd been on Habitat Seven.   
  
A twinge of pain shooting up his leg manages to pull him back on course, his eyes landing weakly on the doors to the bridge. He half jogs, half limps the rest of the way, swiping his omnitool across the lock. When it opens, the atmosphere from the bridge sucks him in like a vortex, and he swallows around the lump of fear that's sitting in his throat, panic shaping into a noose around his neck when he almost chokes.  
  
Scott's got his back to him, hunched over the console where the map sits, knuckles bone-white as his hands curl around the barrier.  
  
Looking for a lifeline.  
  
Shepard feels eyes on him when he steps into the room with renewed force, a storm rolling in over his shoulders and sweeping over the floor. He wears his forged confidence like a suit of armour, eyes ablaze when he spares a glance out of the window, and the Scourge casts a dangerous light over him.  
  
"We need to land." Shepard directs to Scott's back, and he can pinpoint the moment his words find Scott, because the Pathfinder finally breathes. His shoulders relax, head ducking for a moment while he finds air, and when he looks back up he turns to find the voice.   
  
"Oh! Take a good look, does this _look_ like a landing zone, Shepard?" Scott hisses angrily, gesturing to the expanse outside their windows, curling as the Tempest darts through.   
  
"Kallo?" Shepard ignores Scott's remark, turning to their pilot. The salarian just shakes his head, fingers hovering over his console while he glances over his shoulder, blinking, mouth quirked into an anxious grimace.  
  
"SAM plotted a course through the Scourge, we just have to hope--" Kallo tries to explain, but Scott waves him off.  
  
"We've _got_ this."   
  
Shepard just looks at Scott again, half-intent on pushing his way to the console and taking the lead until he sees that Scott's shaking; the slightest tremors across his fingers that curl into fists when Shepard looks at them. Scott pulls Shepard's gaze back when he lifts his hands to fold his arms across his chest, blue eyes sharp and clear, and so, so cold.   
  
Shepard doesn't say a thing, because he knows how badly he's shaking himself. He can feel it, the way he's holding himself together, fingers curled around his forearm, nails digging in, and Scott makes the mistake of looking.  
  
"Shit." he realizes.   
  
Shepard bites down on the inside of his cheek, desperately trying to keep quiet as his fingers twitch, wanting to find safety in something.  
  
In _someone_.   
  
Scott's eyes soften for a moment, and it's long enough for Shepard to see that Scott understands, in some small part.   
  
Regardless, they're still hurtling through no-man's land, and there's nothing either of them can do.  
  
"Just get us out of here!" Liam hisses as Cora knocks him off balance in her own upset, and they both reach for the wall of the airlock to steady themselves. Shepard just braces his feet apart, too well-versed in the art of escaping certain death on the bridge of a ship, and sighs through gritted teeth. He doesn't ask SAM to help, knowing SAM's processing power is dragging the Tempest to relative safety, so he relies on himself for the first time in a while. He counts his breaths, keeps his eyes fixed on a point ahead of him, and he pretends that it isn't Scott's voice that brings him down.  
  
Shepard feels torn in two, more so now than ever. Part of him is screaming at him to take control, to pull them somehow to safety and rattle out a string of orders like he used to be able to do. Shepard doesn't want to let that part take over, though. There's too much at stake for him to take his usual juggernaut approach.  
  
He reminds himself, again, that he's not the Commander here.  
  
"This will be tight." SAM informs them, voice level in the chaos. Shepard barely manages to make out the slightest of gaps in the roiling mass of the Scourge, and then it's gone, blown up into a great blue expanse that promises a better, safer harbour.  
  
"Yes!" Kallo exclaims from his seat, relief palpable, and Vetra just lets out a grating sigh as she leans against Kallo's chair, a little more reassured than she'd been thirty seconds ago.  
  
"Ha! Nice work, kid!" Drack's rumble follows, and Shepard almost starts at the emergence of the voice just behind him. He briefly glances over his shoulder to find the krogan looking at Kallo with a grin, and then he turns back to find Scott again.   
  
"Yeah, but who the _hell_ was that guy?" Scott gestures behind him to the expanse, and Shepard remembers the voice he'd heard over the comm. Ugly. Brutal. It sinks teeth into clammy skin again, and Shepard tries to shake it off.  
  
"We can debate that when we're not about to start flying dead." Shepard tells him, making to turn back towards the doors, set on going back to engineering.   
  
"Ryder, we need a port -- _now!_ " Gil's voice hums over the comm.   
  
"That bad?" Scott looks incredulous, and Shepard scoffs, half-turning to look over his shoulder.   
  
"She's gonna end up looking a lot like the Normandy if we don't land." Shepard throws back. It's callous and marked by irritation, and Scott's expression crumbles for a second. Shepard almost regrets it, but he's clinging on to his old armour with broken fingers, hoping that Commander Shepard can still do something.  
  
"Great." Scott's character smooths over in an instant, far quicker than Shepard likes, "Where did we end up, anyway?" he turns back to his station, dropping his arms to reach for the rail again as he looks out onto their new aspect.  
  
"Sensors are damaged, but I think SAM took us to the vault's co-ordinates." Suvi murmurs, eyes honing in on broken pockets of information relaying across her holo screens.   
  
"You _think?"_ Scott doesn't sound confident in the least, "Fine. Okay. Gil, Shepard, do what you can. We're setting down."  
  
Shepard barely catches Scott's words, eyes fixed on the outline of a destination on their new horizon. Blazes of orange scar the blackened surface, the pattern emerging clearer as they draw ever closer, and Shepard raises his eyebrows when Scott glances over his shoulder at him. _No way is this a safe zone_ , Shepard thinks.    
  
The bridge stays deadly quiet as they pass into the atmosphere, feeling the familiar pull as the Tempest adjusts to new gravity. The planet's covered in thick, dense cloud, with storms rolling through the mass.   
  
Storms that could knock out the rest of their systems if they don't land.   
  
Shepard walks back into the room, closer now, stepping in beside Kallo's seat. The salarian doesn't look up from his consoles, frantic as he tries to get a read on their destination.   
  
"We hit that storm, we're good as dead." Shepard's thoughts slip out in quiet concern, but the noise almost fills the room. Everybody's thinking it.   
  
"We're being contacted." Suvi warns sharply.   
  
Scott chews on his lower lip for a second, contemplating. Shepard can't help but feel that his hesitation is only going to make the situation worse.  
  
"What would you do?" Scott asks, and it takes a second for Shepard to realize the question's directed at him. He looks across, finding Scott staring at him expectantly, eyes wide and pleading.   
  
"Back's against the wall here, Scott. It's your call, but there's only one way out." Shepard tells him, no room for doubt.   
  
"We have to land," Scott sighs, head dropping, "Open a comm."   
  
There's a brief flare of static before a new voice erupts, and for a moment, Shepard thinks it's the kett. The voice repeats, words unintelligible and urgent, shaped in a way Shepard can't understand outside of how agitated the voice sounds.   
  
They don't want them here.  
  
Nobody in the room speaks. There's panicked glances and uncomfortable shifting, but nobody _speaks_. And this isn't the time for silence.   
  
"We can't understand you." Shepard knows he's clutching at straws, but the comm goes silent, almost contemplative.  
  
There's another sequence of words that nobody can make sense of, but they're quieter this time, less disturbed, and Kallo interjects.  
  
"They've sent us a navpoint."  
  
"Set us down." Scott doesn't hesitate this time.  
  
Shepard watches through the window as the mass of orange blazes tear through craggy, black rock in an ugly network of devastation, until the smallest stretch of green and blue spoils the illusion. Quite literally a pocket of paradise, Shepard realizes, mouth open in wordless awe.   
  
Maybe there's a chance.  
  
"Yes! Ha, look at that!" Scott rends the tension in the room with his own excitement, "It's beautiful."   
  
Shepard has to agree with him. There's no other word for it. The Tempest is guided to a platform, surrounded by waterfalls and lush, dense fauna. The green is dotted with specks of blue, constructs built into the wilderness that Shepard can only guess is some kind of settlement.   
  
Established civilization.   
  
Shepard doesn't pretend to understand the Initiative's ambition, but he at least understands that this is quickly turning into a situation that could make or break any Milky Way presence in this theatre. They have to be careful.  
  
"We need in that vault." Scott says when they land, and Shepard just sighs, pushing away from Kallo's seat to walk back into the main bridge.  
  
"We _need_ to be _careful_." Shepard throws back.  
  
"He's right, Ryder. This is first contact." Cora finally speaks up, and her tone offers no less a sense of a command than it always does. Scott pushes off the rail, turning to face his crew with a new light in those eyes of his, always looking for more.  
  
"Yeah, but this is our only chance." Scott reminds them, stepping down as the console interface whirs into standby, the construction sliding under the floor panels when Scott moves out of range.  
  
"Please," Vetra snorts, "You're not really going out there on your own." she folds her arms, mandibles flickering as she talks, eyes following Scott's path through the bridge.   
  
"We can't afford a repeat of last time." Scott sighs, and Shepard turns on him with a surge of panic.  
  
"You can't go out there alone!"   
  
Scott stops a few feet away from him, frowning as he looks over Shepard's expression, suddenly unreadable.  
  
"I'm the Pathfinder. First contact is on me." Scott says, quiet and confident in a way Shepard isn't expecting. He blinks, trying to recover some words, but there's nothing.   
  
There's nothing.  
  
"No pressure, Ryder." Liam scoffs from somewhere on their peripheral, and Scott almost smirks.   
  
Shepard just turns and leaves, feet taking him back to the familiar engineering bay. He barely remembers the short trip, brain pulling together a rough sequence of blue and grey and lines of a ship he's starting to know, but it's all marred by a fresh sting of fear.  
  
This time, that fear isn't something he can share. Shepard knows it's a fear that belongs only to him, for a reason that only one other person on this ship understands.


	31. Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm back! And I'm so, so sorry for the massive delay - my fic for MEBB was hogging all my attention, I got hit with a few tumblr anons that really made me feel awful about Shepard/Ryder, and now I'm on vacation. Massive slew of things, but most of it sorted itself out eventually. I hated leaving you guys in the lurch, so I got to work on this chapter as soon as I could. Hopefully, it's a start for making up and getting Zero Hour back on track! <3

"He'll be fine." Gil says as soon as Shepard steps into the engineering bay, bringing the storm back with him. He lets it fill the room as the doors slide shut.

"What?" Shepard doesn't quite grasp Gil's words when they reach him. Gil looks over, hands hovering over another screen, flashing with numbers and code.

"Ryder." Gil says simply, as if it made every bit of sense. Shepard just shakes his head, licking dry lips as he swallows. He doesn't want to think about it.

"He's just fucking reckless." Shepard seethes, "Always has been."

Gil turns back to his station, swiping at the controls. He powers down the drive core, and Shepard just watches as the light goes out with a keening hum. The lack of noise is biting, leaving marks on Shepard's skin where his nails dig into his arm again. He doesn't want quiet.

"The way I see it, we just landed with a half-dodged ship. Ryder knows we're up shit creek, and I like to hope he's not about to throw away the paddles." Gil retorts, and Shepard sighs, "Call me an optimist, but I think we'll manage this one."

"You're an optimist." Shepard snorts, scuffing his boot to the floor.

"Don't trash my deck." Gil warns, shooting Shepard a pointed look when he hears the scraping. Shepard only scowls back, and Gil rolls his eyes, clearly not wanting to deal with Shepard's ire today.

Shaking hands find a focus in sorting the mess of nuts and bolts strewn across one of the workspaces in the engineering bay, and Shepard lets himself be swallowed up in monotony. It works, if only for a short while before Gil's talking again.

"We need a Nexus stop after that ride." Gil sighs through gritted teeth, swiping a console into standby. He sets his hands on his hips as he scans the deck with keen eyes, and Shepard eventually looks up when he registers the voice.

"The damage on the plating needs looking at." Shepard mumbles, not really wanting to lend himself to conversation. Gil nods, sensing Shepard's reluctance, and he busies himself with running shipwide diagnostics in the downtime. Shepard's glad of the silence that follows, enveloping him with a buffer, enough of a gap between him and the sharp, white noise of his thoughts.

They remain like that for a while. It's a comfortable space, each of them working in their own quiet orbit.

It's not until the comms start crackling that Shepard looks up again, neck aching from being hunched over the bench.

"Shepard, can you come to the bridge?" Cora's voice filters through the room, drawing both Shepard and Gil's attention. Shepard frowns. What for? He spares a glance at Gil who looks like he's thinking the same thing.

"I wouldn't like to keep her waiting." Gil quips easily, raising his eyebrows. Shepard huffs, pushig himself up from the bench and sighing.

"On my way." he voices through the comm, and he makes his way out of engineering and down through the ship. Shepard can't begin to separate rational thought from incoherent ramblings, so he settles for thinking of nothing at all while he walks the last stretch along the gangway, and through the doors onto the bridge.

Cora and Liam are both there, along with Suvi and Kallo at their stations. Vetra's lurking by Suvi, shrewd eyes glancing at every console lit up in between her and the other side of the room. The atmosphere is unbearably tense, and Shepard feels the weight of it as soon as he steps through the doors. He grits his teeth, eyes landing on Cora.

"What's going on?" Shepard asks, straight to the point. The soft whir of the doors shutting behind him sends a chill up his spine at the prospect of being shut in the pressure of the room. He brushes it aside, walking further in while he waits for Cora's response.

"Just looking for input." Cora states, arms clasped behind her back, the very picture of authority. Shepard's reminded of her role as Alec's second, and he begins to draw the lines.

"On Scott?" Shepard quirks an eyebrow, mild irritation settling in. Barely out of the starting gate, and they want to take scores on something nobody had expected to happen.

"Not exactly." Cora tries to deflect it, but Shepard fixes her with a pointed glance. Her brow furrows for a moment, breaking her careful mask, and she lets out a sigh.

"Look, this is a first contact situation, and Ryder was never briefed on protocol. Or Pathfinder duties in general, I should add." she admits wearily, and Shepard gets the feeling she doesn't really want to be having this discussion. It does nothing to quell his growing irritation.

"Ryder's what we need. New ideas." Liam interjects, a weight to his tone implying that he's said these words before. Shepard doesn't doubt that he has.

"And if these new ideas don't work? What then?" Cora shoots back, briefly glancing out the viewport at Aya's lush forests. Shepard isn't going to dismiss her worries -- she was trained for this, Scott wasn't -- but he knows the situation needs careful hands, and Scott isn't stupid.

Reckless, maybe. But he's... sharp. The Alliance would have called him dangerously smart.

"Listen, I get where you're coming from, Cora. But would any of us be better off as Pathfinder? Truly?" Shepard pitches in, and he lets the voice of the commander speak instead of Cade. Just for a bit.

Nobody responds. Vetra glances over, face-plates shifting as she lets out a sharp exhale, but says nothing.

"Liam's right. We can't expect Andromeda to play by our rules." Shepard adds, absently moving towards the centre of the bridge, a familiar spot, "We figured that out on Habitat Seven. Scott, more than any one of us, knows how much that cost. He won't let this one go wrong too."

"It's a nice sentiment--" Cora drops her hands from behind her back, shrugging loosely, but Shepard just shakes his head and cuts her off.

"You're his second. He needs support, not criticism." Shepard says, sharp and cold. Cora looks at him, expression softening for an instant.

"I trusted Alec because he _knew_ what he was doing. He had the experience, he had the rank to back it up." Cora tries to explain, and Shepard finally sees the underlying argument punctuating her careful words. Shepard falls quiet, trying to word a response. He knows why Scott didn't succeed in the Alliance. He knows full well why Ryder is a name that had to leave the Milky Way. He knows exactly why Cora's doubting him now.

"Would you believe me if I told you that he should have been assigned to the Normandy, and not me?" Shepard tries, voice quiet and sincere. It snaps through the tension in the room with ease, subduing doubt, replacing it with careful confidence.

Cora quirks an eyebrow, but her eyes are shot wide with something akin to surprise, and her mouth hangs open on something she can't quite say.

"I don't know if I would." Cora admits, eventually.

"Would you believe Commander Shepard?"

Cora just looks at him, the fight slipping from her shoulders as they slump and her rigid stance relaxes.

"Maybe. I don't know." she says, "It just doesn't make sense. If he's as good as you say he is, then why are his records full of disciplinaries instead of commendments?"

Shepard supposes she would have had access to those records if she was Alec's second. Sighing, Shepard leans a hip against the rail encircling the map console, hands wringing together. He feels like he's said too much, but he needs them to believe in Scott as much as they believe in the Pathfinder.

Not just for peace of mind, but... for an actual, real chance at success in Heleus.

"Because the Alliance fucked him over." Shepard says bluntly, staring out of the viewport, his ire hitting the glass with an almost-audible crack. "Names meant more than the actual soldier did."

Shepard remembers his conversations with Ashley, the quiet admission of a woman hounded by a name she'd done everything to rise above. Scott's no different. Shepard knows his own name is what got him signed up in the first place; his father's rank preceded his own ability, and he hated the Alliance for setting him up without a hope of succeeding.

"Harsh." Liam comments, not really knowing what else to say. Shepard spares him a glance and a half-hearted shrug.

"But true." Shepard tells him, "All I'm saying is give him a chance. The Initiative is a new beginning for a lot of you, are you really gonna deny him that?"

Cora doesn't say anything else.

The rest of the wait passes in a terse silence, Shepard lingering around the bridge for idle conversation with Liam and Suvi while Cora handles the brewing situation between Kallo and Gil over a technical disagreement.

Eventually, SAM's cool voice breaks over the room. "The Pathfinder requests the crew assemble on the communications deck."

Shepard flinches at the sudden voice, but turns his attention to the door. He can hear a general hubbub passing through the room, questions following, but he figures they'll be answered soon enough. Turning away from the map console, Shepard heads out of the bridge and makes his way to the comm room without a word.

* * *

There's no way to say what Shepard had been expecting, but... it wasn't the alien siting in front of him now, shrouded in silence, eyes piercing, even through the visor flickering over his right eye. Shepard knows the discipline of a turian, the strength of a krogan, the elegance of the asari; Shepard doesn't know how to describe the angara. He's uncomfortably out of his depth here.

"I'm just saying," Cora's voice distacts Shepard from his scrutiny, pulling his gaze across the comm deck, "As far as first contact goes, at least that went better than the last one."

Shepard does his best to keep his expression neutral, but he's still irritated from their earlier conversation. Sparing a glance to Scott, he sees his face drawn in tight lines, mouth clamped shut while Cora speaks.

Liam snorts, arms folding as he leans back to look around the group. "Only slightly."

"Yeah, what happened?" Peebee interjects, leaning over the console, "I wanted to look around."

Drack grumbles, and Shepard internally groans at the way this is turning into a game of passing the buck. He feels like banging their heads together and hoping that'll land some sense into them.

"And now we have another mouth to feed. Whatever he eats." Drack throws in, not so helpfully. Vetra chirps, mandibles twitching while she swipes at a comm terminal for weapon specs.

"At least he didn't come unarmed." she adds, and Shepard just sighs, folding his arms tight across his chest. Scott looks at him, meeting his gaze with a matching one of exasperation as silence falls over the room with everyone else's eyes on the newcomer, slouched on a seat and out of the way.

He's watching. His eyes are flickering across each person in the room, as if sizing them up. Shepard can't blame him if he is.

"Do the translators not work?" Vetra asks after the silence grows uncomfortable. The alien shifts, tilting his head as he regards Vetra with narrowed eyes, and he opens his mouth to speak.

"They _work_."

The words are slow, heavily punctuated with a thick accent. There's a hard line to his voice, and it's not a line Shepard wants to push.

He feels the angara's eyes on him, then, inquisitive and relentlessly sharp.

"And you?" he directs to Shepard, who doesn't understand the question. His confusion must be obvious, because the angara shifts, almost out of his seat, and tries again.

"Everyone here has a complaint to make. I am waiting for yours."

Shepard just looks at him blankly. It's a bold presumption, but Shepard kind of admires the alien's quiet confidence.

"I don't have one." Shepard tells him simply, and it seems to be a satisfactory answer. The angara nods, once, an acknowledgement, and then he's back into his stoic silence.

"Okay, look, I know we're improvising," Scott steps in before he loses his footing entirely, "But there is a Pathfinder team protocol."

"Uh, I didn't get that handbook." Peebee quirks an eyebrow, pushing off the console with a huff. Scott just rolls his eyes at her, shaking his head. Shepard knows Scott's usually the first to laugh at situations like these, so his snappy attitude is a dead giveaway that Scott's feeling the pressure.

"Ryder, we followed our best lead here and now we don't even have that." Cora sighs, bracing herself on the console. She's quieter than usual. Scott looks at her for a moment, but he doesn't dwell on it.

"Jaal has offered to do what he can to help us access the vault on Aya." Scott informs them, calm and clear, and Shepard is glad to have a name for the face.

It makes the whole situation far less hostile.

"And how are we doing that when we're leaving the planet it's on?" Vetra sighs sharply. Shepard looks over at Jaal again, contemplating.

The goal is getting into that vault on Aya. Leaving seems counterproductive, granted, but there has to be a reason. Shepard's seen this kind of bargain before; a favour for a favour. It's a solid chance for an alliance to form, and Shepard slowly pieces it together in his head, thoughts stringing out into a single stream of consciousness that he voices to Jaal.

"The better question would be: whose favour are we trying to get?"

Jaal looks at Shepard, eyes still bright, still unwavering, but this time he smiles. It's only the smallest quirk of his lips, and Shepard isn't entirely sure it's meant for pleasantries, but it's there.

"Intuitive." Jaal comments quietly. He stands, his movements as slow and precise as his words, and takes a few careful steps closer to the group. "But... I should start from the beginning."

"Go ahead, Jaal." Scott gestures for Jaal to speak, leaning casually against the console. Shepard remains standing, but he relaxes enough to drop his arms to his sides, hooking a thumb through a belt loop at his hip.

"One day, about eighty years ago, the Archon and the kett arrived in Heleus." Jaal begins, words hanging with a new weight, a heavier one, "That was when it began."

"They declared war?" Vetra jumps the gun, and Shepard can tell she's growing impatient. Jaal shakes his head, stepping closer to the console next to Shepard.

"Nothing so easy to define, or fight." Jaal says, and his gaze lands on Scott, looking increasingly more sombre as the conversation draws on.

"The kett kidnap the angara. Their people disappear without a trace." Scott clarifies, "What if they were us?"

Shepard doesn't think about that prospect for too long.

"Sure, I'll fight kett all day long, kid, but that's no plan." Drack rumbles, shrugging. Peebee hums her agreement, insistent on entering the vault.

"Surprisingly, I'm with Peebee. Our own mission takes priority." Cora adds, and Shepard can see where they're coming from. He doesn't agree, but he can understand it.

"We're not getting in that vault without Jaal's help." Shepard's running low on patience, his shoulder and his leg are starting to ache again with the painkillers slowly losing their hold, and he's tired of watching conversation run in circles. His irritation tumbles out in his words, and he feels every pair of eyes set on him in that following moment.

"Look, the Angara don't know us, they don't know our intentions. This is their home, and we're complete unknowns. You _really_ think they're gonna let us walk in through the front door?"

A low murmur of assent runs around the room, and Scott looks a little more at ease when Shepard lands eyes on him again. He shoots him a glance, a wordless thanks, and then he turns the discussion back to its point.

"Shepard's right. And we have a plan. Jaal?" Scott swipes at the console in front of him, bringing up a planetary holo.

"The Angaran Resistance is stretched thin. I was tasked with traveling to two of our worlds this morning - and you'll accompany me." Jaal tells them, but he's met with an incredulous scoff from Liam.

"Because...?"

Jaal turns to the man with a sigh. "Because then Evfra will see you as trustworthy. You want that."

Liam keeps quiet after that, and Scott directs the attention to the holo.

"Jaal's told me about these worlds: Havarl and Voeld."

Shepard looks over the holos. One is a lush planet, covered in deep blue and green, looking far more promising than the other, which is blanketed in white.

"Before the Scourge, Voeld was a thriving planet of billions. A shining centre of technology, and life." Jaal explains, and Shepard doesn't miss the sorrow underlying those words. _Eighty years._ Shepard has to wonder how many have been lost in all that time.

"And now?" Vetra chirps, curiousity piqued.

"It's the center of our ground war against the kett. The Resistance are fighting kett command for control of the planet." Jaal tells her, and there's a certain brutality to his simple words that Shepard knows a little too well. Elysium had been exactly the same.

"And the other?" Cora asks, sounding a little reluctant.

"Havarl is the birthplace of the angara. It's atmosphere has started to degrade -- has started to become wild and dangerous. We... suspect Remnant."

Peebee brightens at that. "Now we're talking."

Jaal hums, shaking his head again. "We've recently lost contact with our scientists there."

That complicates things. Shepard supposes finding them is going to be a priority. He can feel his focus starting to fray at the edges, almost drowning in too much information. His fingers flex and straighten at his sides, a necessary distraction while he sorts out his hectic thoughts.

"Pathfinder?" Drack looks over at Scott, "It's your call."

"I'll weigh up the options and let you know." Scott sighs, weary. He rubs at his temple with the heel of his hand, dismissing the crew in the process with mumbled words. Shepard lingers while the crew slowly filter away from the comm deck and back to their stations, no doubt with plenty of words to say to Scott when they catch him alone.

Jaal looks between Shepard and Scott once everybody else has cleared out, and he gives a single nod to each. Almost a farewell, but he looks like he wants to say something. He steps forward, towards Shepard.

"Jaal Ama Darav." He wants to introduce himself properly, and Shepard watches as the angara holds out a hand. Shepard's instinct is to go for the handshake, but he hesitates, glancing between the outstretched hand and Jaal himself. Eventually, Jaal makes a noise that Shepard _thinks_ is a quiet laugh, and then he feels his arm being yanked into a new position, forearm lining up against Jaal's own.

"Uh, Shepard." he stumbles over his own name, a knee-jerk response, and he can almost see Scott smirking behind Jaal. Jaal just nods, smiling plainly now, and he drops his arm. Shepard follows suit, hazarding a guess that an angaran handshake is something he's going to have to work on.

"You are quick." Jaal states simply, "Evfra will like you."

"Uhh-- thanks? I think." Shepard is totally bewildered as he watches Jaal leave, movements slow and purposeful down the steps. He stops to let out another throaty laugh, glancing back.

"You haven't met him yet." is all Jaal says before he disappears out of sight, leaving Shepard alone on the deck with Scott.

There's a beat of silence, and then Shepard turns to Scott. "What just happened?"

Scott only grins, and it's nothing close to an answer, but it's far better than seeing Scott in that strange, sombre light from earlier.

"Ugh." Shepard just groans, rubbing at his eyes. "This has been... a _day_."

Scott nods, grin fading into a tired smile instead. He's leaning heavily against the console, shoulders slumped while he flicks the holo back to standby.

"Yeah. One hell of a day." Scott agrees quietly.

"Scott?" Shepard calls his attention back, wanting to see those blue eyes, "Are you okay?"

Scott doesn't answer right away, and that's bad enough for Shepard. He sighs, daring to move closer.

"Get some rest." Shepard says, but Scott shakes his head.

"I just need to... stop thinking. For a bit." Scott rubs the back of his neck. "Would you, uh-- could we just... sit? And talk? Just... I miss it."

Shepard appreciates how honest his request is, and he doesn't want to ignore the skitter of warmth that it sparks in his chest, further fueled by the hopeful look Scott gives him in that next moment.

How can he say no?

"Yeah. I'd like that." 


	32. Restart

The Pathfinder's quarters. Shepard almost laughs when he walks in, the doors giving way to a vast space that takes up the entire underside of the bridge. It's sleek and open, designed with some luxury in mind, at least. A couch is lined up nearby the viewport, an array of drinks set on a table next to it. Across from that, Shepard lands eyes on an elaborate desk, and a holographic interface lit up like the SAM node back on the Hyperion. Next to that, a small bank of screens takes up the corner, most of them set onto standby. Even so, it's a mass of technology in such a small space, and it's almost a little daunting to be stood here. Shepard's old cabin seems like a basic bunk compared to this.

"Jesus. They didn't spare much expense." Shepard half-smiles, eyes glancing around the room as he takes it all in. The viewport stretches the entire way across, granting them an incredible view of Aya below them. Shepard's almost lost in the winding jungles outside the window, still amazed that such a place even exists. He finds himself drawing ever closer to the sight, hands finding the cold metal of the rail that runs the edge of the room.

"It's a sight, huh?" Scott says from somewhere behind him. Shepard turns to find Scott standing there, two glasses held in one hand while the other presents a bottle with a subtle gesture.

"Drink?" Scott asks then, and Shepard nods, stepping over to take one of the glasses from him.

"What is it?" Shepard has the mind to ask, noting the unlabelled bottle. Scott just laughs quietly, pouring out a measure of amber liquid.

"You really think I'd give you a drink that wasn't whiskey? _Really?_ "

Shepard grins. "I guess you know me well enough."

Scott looks at him, his own smile faltering a little with sincerity. "Guess I do."

Shepard turns back to the viewport while Scott pours his own drink. He's not sure what to say. Scott seems to notice his hesitation, and he finds an easy way through, like he always does.

"Hey, Cade. You ought to see the ships my dad collected." Scott's voice sounds further away then, and Shepard turns again, finding him walking over to the desk. Looking closer, Shepard sees a metallic glint from the shelf above the desk.

"Yeah?" Shepard walks over, slow and uncertain. He watches as Scott sets the bottle down on the desk, his own drink held firmly in his other hand while he reaches for a familiar shape on the shelf. Shepard's recognized it. He manages a sad smile, putting his own drink down to take the model from Scott's hand.

"Oh, hey. Normandy." Shepard looks it over, finding every old line he knew, every quirk, every not-quite perfect shape that the Normandy was designed with. It was meant to be the first step for something greater, and Shepard finds himself wondering whether that ever happened.

Scott's watching him intently, almost like he's not sure if showing him this was the right thing to do.

"Your dad had this?" Shepard asks, thumb running along a sharp, chrome-plated edge. Scott nods, taking a sip from his glass.

"Yeah. He kept up to date with everything after..." Scott doesn't finish the sentence, but Shepard knows what he means. It leaves a hollow ringing in his chest, a harrowing reminder of what he'd left behind.

"I'm guessing you didn't?" Shepard turns the Normandy in his hands one more time, taking one last look before he moves to place it back on the shelf carefully.

"I tried." Scott admits, "But the whole thing just... came out of the blue. Hit the Alliance news relay with an emergency ping or something, got a galaxy-wide broadcast. After that, it just went to chaos."

Shepard lets out a sharp exhale, eyebrows raised with quiet surprise. He'd expected a reaction, but he'd never considered how people might have found out. It seems a brutal thing to learn from such a neutral source.

"We tried to ping an SOS. Didn't have time." Shepard murmurs quietly, picking up his drink to take a sip. The dull burn of the whiskey is enough to numb the anger threatening to flare.

"Well, _something_ got through. Recon teams were working for days trying to piece together the last navpoints and the log. Alliance tried to keep it hush, but it got out. The response was... pretty crazy." Scott tells him, and Shepard knows it's not something to feel good about, but being able to understand what happened is better than not knowing.

"How long did it take to--" Shepard wants to know every detail, to fill in the hollow lines of the scars on his skin. If there was reason, if he hadn't died for nothing, Shepard knows he might feel a little better about the way the red tears his skin apart.

"A week, give or take." Scott pauses to take another drink, almost finishing his glass. "They found the wreckage on some planet. Alchera."

_Wreckage_. Shepard swallows, licking dry lips. He can feel the white-hot beam, sparks on the back of his neck, tearing the Normandy in half. No doubt it had been a mess when they'd found the pieces.

And the crew... Shepard hesitates on the next question.

"How many?"

Scott's glass is empty now. He pours himself another before he answers.

"Twenty on the first day. Twenty-five by the second." he looks at Shepard then, eyes glazed and distant, "Then they found your helmet."

Shepard understands the implication of that, clear as day. They would've marked him for dead as soon as.

"People had been hoping. They'd tried to... tried not to think of the worst. News was scarce, so we thought, you know, no news is better than bad news." Scott isn't looking at Shepard anymore, his eyes fixed on the ground at his feet while his fingers clutch the glass tighter.

"They brought the rest of your crew back to Arcturus. Day after that, Admiral Hackett made the call. Officially declared you killed in action." Scott concludes, pushing himself away from the desk to walk over to the couch. Shepard lingers, sparing a furtive glance at the model of the Normandy glinting on the shelf. There's no comfort there. Every memory he'd placed in that ship has now been crudely scribbled over and replaced by the last few images he carries of an old life.

"Can I ask you something?" Scott's voice filters across the room, softer than before. Shepard looks over, finding Scott on the couch with elbows resting on his knees, glass held in both hands.

"Yeah." Shepard begins to walk over, but he slows when he draws near. Should he sit? He feels awkward enough talking about his own death. Scott notices, meeting Shepard with a faint smile as he gestures to the seat beside him. Shepard obliges, sinking umcomfortably into the seat, shoulders stiff as he leans back.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make this awkward, it's just--" Scott sighs sharply, twirling the glass in his hands as he speaks. Shepard interrupts him with a pointed look.

"Scott, it's fine. Honestly, I think I need to talk about it." he admits, and Scott nods slowly.

"So do I."

Shepard conjures up a ghost of a smile. Scott relaxes, taking another sip before he turns his mind to the question he wants to ask.

"You must have known the Normandy wasn't going to make it."

Shepard looks down at the glass in Scott's hands, watching the amber liquid swirl around. He runs a tongue along the sharp edges of his teeth while he thinks.

He'd been in his cabin, looking over mundane reports for ship passages in the Terminus Systems, and the bridge comms were open. It had been mindless chatter for almost an hour, Pressly bickering with Joker and Ashley while they ran a sweep of the system. It was all completely ordinary, until the comms went silent. That had been the first sign. Enough to make Shepard move out of his cabin and into the mess hall, finding some of the crew milling around with murmurs of confusion passing between them. After that, it's a blur. He vaguely recalls pulling his armour on in a rush, barking out orders. He remembers Ashley finding him, the corridors filling with smoke faster than Shepard could run. Then the beam hit.

He knew.

"Yeah. I did." Shepard tells Scott truthfully, and out of the corner of his eye he can see Scott's shoulders sink.

"Then why didn't you get off that damn ship, Cade?" Scott asks, and his words are barely audible. Regardless, they hit Shepard with a force he isn't expecting, a bullet to the chest, and he chooses to down the rest of his drink instead of give an answer right away. He lets the question hang there, suspended like a noose.

Eventually, it loses its appeal, and Shepard comes up with an answer.

"I went back for my pilot." he says, simply. Scott looks almost incredulous.

"I- Wow. Okay, I was expecting something a little more." Scott says, and it might have sounded callous if Shepard didn't know him so well.

"I could have left him." Shepard leans forward to set his glass down on the table in front of them. "But he would've been another name to remember. I left Torfan with too many of those."

Scott looks like he understands. Shepard doesn't expect him to.

But then, Scott's never really followed expectations very well.

"You know, I wanted to be angry with you, when you showed up on the Hyperion." Scott sets his glass down next to Shepard's, and when he sits back, he turns so he's facing Shepard. Shepard just quirks an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"I wanted to be mad that you made me lose my best friend. I wanted to blame you for _everything_ I went through after that. But I just... it just went. It just disappeared. You spoke, and it was like I was back on Arcturus with you again and I didn't care."

Shepard knows his hands are shaking, so he fiddles idly with linked fingers while Scott speaks, and every word pulls at newly formed heartstrings.

"I keep going back, because--" Scott pauses, shaking his head, "Because that's where I want to be."

_Me too_ , Shepard desperately wants to say, but he keeps his eyes fixed on Scott and simply smiles. It's lined with old memory, a longing for a place that doesn't exist anymore. Shepard understands that.

"Only thing is, we can't go back. Can we?" Shepard sighs softly, and he lets go of the quiet strings of worry holding him back. Just enough to move closer, shifting so he can face Scott properly. Scott watches keenly, blue eyes sharp in the light of the room. Slowly, he shakes his head, but doesn't say anything else. Shepard drops his gaze to Scott's hands, his fingers linking and unlinking in repetitive motion. It's an old habit of Scott's, Shepard recognizes it, and instinctively reaches his own hands to curl around Scott's cold ones, and they grow still.

"And if we can't go back..." Shepard murmurs, thumbs rubbing over Scott's knuckles, feeling the tension slowly unfurling beneath his careful gestures. Scott lets out a sigh, breath ghosting over their hands. He slowly moves his hands to catch Shepard's fingers, linking them easily with his own. Shepard lets him, and he lets him because he knows there's nothing and nobody else who could make him feel safer than Scott does.

"If we can't go back, then we start again?" Scott tries to finish Shepard's words, looking up with a proper smile in place, the kind that makes his eyes shine just the right shade of blue. Shepard's favourite.

"Yeah. We can do that."

In that moment, Shepard finally relaxes. He lets his shoulders slump, heaving out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. His eyes slide shut, somewhere between exhaustion and relief, and he feels Scott free one of his hands, shifting closer still. Scott's hand curls through his short hair, fingers scraping gently over his scalp and brushing the shell of his ear in soft, soothing motions.

"It's okay." he hears Scott murmur, closer than ever, and it's then that Shepard realizes he's shaking with all the grief he's been trying to hold.

He's overwhelmed, freefalling, everything's crashing over him in a tidal surge. Shepard knows wouldn't let himself crumble in front of anyone else.

More than anything, he's just relieved.

There's no unanswered questions. No leftover anger. No words left unsaid.

Just a blank slate. A starting line.

A zero hour.

 


	33. Intentions

The Tempest feels a little bigger, now. A little less stifling. A little less like the walls want to collapse on Shepard when he walks by.  
  
In part, it's down to the Pathfinder. Scott has a way of making things bearable, always has done, and Shepard knows it's Scott's words filtering through to Lexi and Drack and Gil -- all the people who make him feel normal. Who make him feel a little more human, and a little less like a legend nobody quite believes in.  
  
Shepard would be the first to admit he's not a believer either.   
  
Feeling a tap on his shoulder, Shepard's thoughts scatter through his fingers along with the screws he's holding. Turning, he finds Gil smirking at him, eyes lit up with gleeful amusement punctuated by the ringing of the screws hitting the floor.  
  
"Wakey-wakey." Gil snickers as Shepard shoves his shoulder with a grumble, reaching down to pick up the screws he's dropped. Gil helps him, and they manage to get most of them back into the draw, save for a few that have rolled under the workbenches.  
  
"Sorry. Zoned out for a while there." Shepard sighs, rubbing the back of his hand against his forehead. Gil clicks his tongue as he rifles through a draw for something.  
  
"Yep. You were _miles_ away. Care to share?"   
  
Shepard snorts, leaning a hip against the bench and folding his arms tight. He's not really sure what there is to share, but Gil's been steadily divulging dribs and drabs of information, snippets of a past life, glimpses of a person behind the one-liners and the blatant diversions. Shepard owes him a little honesty.  
  
"I spoke with Scott the other day." Shepard starts simple enough, diverting his gaze across the hangar. He can feel Gil looking at him for a brief moment before he grows cold again, Gil moving over to the Nomad.  
  
"Oh?" Gil doesn't presume anything. At least, not out loud. Shepard's a little grateful for that; he's not sure he could handle it right now. Scott's words are still rattling around somewhere in his mind.   
  
_It's okay._  
  
Shepard says it, over and over, in _his_ voice. He says it when he's alone, poking at the ugly red lines on his skin. He says it when he's reading over reports from the Nexus, his mind slowly slipping into overdrive. He says it when he can't sleep at night, wishing he was somewhere else instead.  
  
So, it's there. It's still sitting awkwardly, like a bone slowly setting after being broken. But it's _there_.  
  
"Yeah. It was good." Shepard sighs slowly, breathing measured. He fiddles with a thread on his t-shirt sleeve, not quite making eye-contact yet. Gil notices his hesitation, and gets to work. The space between them is filled with the familiar ring of metal, and Shepard lets himself relax a little more.  
  
"Just good?" Gil throws over his shoulder, glancing briefly at Shepard. Shepard matches his gaze with a half-grin.  
  
"Just... good." Shepard nods, "We talked. Cleared stuff up. Feels a little more normal now."   
  
Gil nods, turning back to his work without another word. Shepard supposes he doesn't really need to say anything.   
  
The beat of silence stretches into something more, enveloping the room in a quiet that pulls at Shepard's skin uncomfortably. He rubs a hand across his forearm, sleeves rolled up to his elbows from working on the armory. He can feel the scars there are healing, the new skin pulled tight over the thin red lines. Progress.   
  
Enough for now, Shepard thinks. He's still recovering, as Lexi keeps reminding him, and it would be a while before he felt entirely himself again.   
  
"Hey, Shepard." Gil's voice sounds again, pulling Shepard once more from his own thoughts. He turns to look, finding Gil's sharp eyes on him, looking contemplative. "How long have you known Ryder, exactly?"   
  
Shepard shoots him a questioning look in return. "Why?"  
  
Gil shrugs, tapping a wrench idly at his knee. "I'm a numbers guy. Makes more sense to me when there's a timeframe."   
  
Shepard grants him that, at least. He chews idly on his lower lip while he tries to pull the numbers, raking through bleak snapshots of things he doesn't want to remember.   
  
"Alliance dumped me on Arcturus after Torfan. Call it 2179. I didn't leave until 2183. Four years." Shepard shrugs, not entirely in the same room anymore. He's left one hand in the mire of his grey thoughts, though his fingers may as well be catching smoke for all the good it does.   
  
"Well," Gil hums, "I thought it would've been longer."   
  
"Huh. Why?" Shepard asks, absently wandering over to where Gil's working. His words feel too loud in the space between them.   
  
Gil shrugs loosely, setting the wrench down to bring up the flashlight on his omnitool as he investigates behind the Nomad's front wheels.  
  
"Just sounds like you've known each other longer than that." Gil admits, voice muffled as he moves under the chassis. Shepard scuffs his boot into the floor, growing restless as he starts to think too much.  
  
"Probably just our line of work." Shepard offers quietly, hesitant in letting himself think about the days on Arcturus that got too quiet when one of them wasn't there. It was never anything serious; a routine patrol flight for Shepard, groundside recon for Scott. Basic tasks, but with the Alliance pushing out into Terminus space, things were getting tense along the Attican Traverse line they'd already established. Enough for a few names to go missing every now and then.  
  
Gil moves back out from under the chassis, heaving out a sigh as he sits up and wipes a hand across his forehead, beading with sweat and streaked with faint black from his hands.  
  
"Care to elaborate?" Gil quirks an eyebrow up at Shepard, who offers a hand to help him up.   
  
"You kind of slip into that mindset, as a soldier. Losing someone you care about could happen tomorrow, or it might never happen at all." Shepard tells him, words a little clumsier than usual. Gil keeps his eyes on Shepard for a moment, analytical, distant, trying to dig out a rational answer. He turns away with a huff, heading back towards the workbench.  
  
"A fun little game of now or never, then?" Gil sounds almost amused, but there's something else there. Shepard doesn't place it.  
  
"Maybe." he replies simply. Gil's a smart man; Shepard knows full well that he's worked this out, and he's only asking to seem a little more polite and a little less invasive.   
  
"So, what are you waiting for this time?" Gil snickers, and Shepard shoots him a stony look. He's not wrong. Gil never usually is.   
  
"Don't be a smartarse." Shepard grumbles, but the quirk to his lip gives him away, and Gil flashes a wicked smile right back.  
  
"It's my natural charm."   
  
Shepard waves him off, grimace turning into a badly-hidden smile as he drags a hand over his face, tired and a little more flustered than he really should be. He knows he doesn't have a hope in hell of keeping up this distance, not with Scott in such close proximity, but he's prideful enough to keep being an idiot about it. Shepard doesn't need Gil Brodie to tell him as much.  
  
"You have so much dirt on me right now." Shepard groans as their laughter subsides, and Gil claps him on the shoulder as he passes on his way back to the Nomad.  
  
"That's what friends are for."   
  
"Aw, so you admit it?" Shepard seizes the opportunity to get his own back, a bright smile pulling into place when Gil looks at him again with feigned innocence.  
  
"Admit what?"   
  
"We're _friends_. My mysterious charm and witty one-liners have done their work." Shepard's grin turns smug as Gil sighs heavily, shooting Shepard a stony look this time.  
  
"No, you're just insufferable."  
  
Shepard laughs.  
  
"Well, that makes two of us.   
  
  


* * *

  
A few hours later, Shepard isn't expecting to be pulling his armour on, but he's just locked the last seal on his left boot and double checked the rest, listening to the air hissing as clamps fit into place. Rolling his shoulders, he finds the armour fits a little loosely than he remembers. He grimaces, and blames it on the forced bedrest he's been on since Eos.   
  
Turning his attention back to the present, Shepard shuts his locker with a ringing thud as he relays the specifics of mission silently. The call from Jaal had been unexpected, a request for Shepard to join them at the angaran research base. Lexi wasted no time in offering up a solid list of reasons why she wasn't about to let Shepard groundside, and then Jaal played the diplomacy card. Shepard doesn't pretend to understand why it's _him_ that Jaal wants groundside and not Cora, or even Liam. The longer he thinks about it, the more uncomfortable the thought sits, digging in at the back of his mind where he can't ignore it. The last thing he wants to do is get involved in any politics Heleus is about to kick up.  
  
Still, he's itching to get moving. Being cramped up on the Tempest is stifling at best, and downright unbearable on the bad days when brain fog settles in and turns everything else into vague shapes behind a line Shepard won't touch. Those days, he crawls into his bunk and doesn't sleep until Scott gets back.   
  
"Cargo's open, Shepard. Whenever you're ready." Vetra's cool voice rattles over the comm, and Shepard almost flinches at the sudden sound. He looks up, helmet still held in his hands, and his fingers tap out a rhythm of their own against the solid material.  
  
"Alright. Thanks, Vetra." Shepard sighs, picking up the helmet and turning to leave the armoury. He steps out into the bridge, almost bumping into Suvi walking past him.  
  
"Oh! Sorry!" Suvi sidesteps just in time, even as Shepard instinctively reaches out to stop her in case she'd tripped.   
  
"My bad, Suvi." Shepard flashes her a quick smile, and he's about to turn away when she opens her mouth to speak again, and he stops to wait.  
  
"While you're here, I didn't get a chance to ask Ryder, but I don't suppose you'd keep an eye out for... dirt?" Suvi seems to stutter, then Shepard catches the tail end of her question with nothing more than a bemused expression to offer in return.  
  
" _Dirt?_ "   
  
Suvi's lips quirk into a grin before Shepard says anything else, and a tiny laugh slips out, quickly followed by a hand rubbing awkwardly at her temple. Shepard can see pink across her cheeks, and he feels a little bad for wanting to laugh.  
  
"God, no. Let me start again-- What I meant to say was: can you ask Ryder to take some scans of the ground material? Not just... bring dirt back."  
  
Shepard smiles back at her with a nod, finding it hard to keep a straight face when Suvi's bright laughter scatters over the bridge as she finishes speaking.   
  
Sure. Dirt. They had to have dirt, right?  
  
"I, uh-- yeah. I can do that." Shepard manages half a sentence, and Suvi smiles vividly back at him before she skitters away back to her post, leaving Shepard to cross the rest of the bridge and move out through the doors. They whir shut behind him, and the warmth is shut off abruptly along with the hum of monitors in navigation. The silence of the walkway swallows him up, sinks a cold into his bones that Shepard feels with every step he takes down towards the cargo hold.  
  
Ahead of him, he can see the dense fauna of Havarl waiting outside. It's dark and thick, vines tangling where he can see them lining between tree trunks and bushes, pulling the canopy down and down until the sky feels perpetually dark. Shepard shivers when he steps out of the Tempest, feet hitting ground for the first time in weeks. There's no comfort there, as much as he tries to find it.  
  
Squaring his shoulders, Shepard pulls his helmet on, eyes stinging at the fresh air, and he makes his way down the half-destroyed walkway he sees ahead of him. He hopes it's the way to Daar Pelaav, but Shepard doesn't dwell on the what-ifs as he sets one foot in front of the other and shuts his thoughts down to nothing.  
  
The air itself is stifling. He can feel it, pressing down on him. It doesn't matter how much he moves, or how little, it hangs there with unforgiving weight.  
  
He's barely walking five minutes when he hears chatter, and looks up. He tries to hone in on the sound, eyes narrowing as his footsteps slow. Ascending a few steps, he lands eyes on Jaal's familiar armour, bright blue in the darkness of Havarl, but the wrong blue. _Where's Scott?_   
  
"Ah, Shepard!" Jaal spots him before Shepard can look further, so he pulls himself back to attention and nods Jaal's way. Jaal waves him over, and Shepard goes, feet heavy with reluctance.  
  
"This is the alien I was telling you about, Kiiran." Jaal begins smoothly, voice lilting its way to Shepard. It filters in like static through his helmet, and grates the wrong way. Shepard just blinks and stares blankly, waiting for Jaal to say something else. The angara next to Jaal looks less than impressed, and Shepard can't really blame her.  
  
"Like Pathfinder Ryder, he is from... a long way away." Jaal explains a little more, and Shepard slowly moves his gaze to the smaller figure. The eyes are steely, no warmth yet, but she opens her mouth and speaks to him directly.  
  
"Kiiran Dals. Lead scientist here at Daar Pelaav." she introduces herself with clipped notes, short and sharp. Shepard manages another nod, and misses a beat before he realizes he needs to introduce himself back.  
  
"Shepard." is all he says, because there's nothing else to tag onto his name anymore. No status, no expectation, no obligation. In one way, it's freeing. In another way entirely, it leaves him feeling far more vulnerable than he expects. Kiiran's eyes narrow over him for a moment, and it's like a shot to the exposed nerve. Shepard flinches, tries to cover it up with a cough, and looks away as he feels the prickly heat clawing at his neck inside his undersuit.  
  
"Shepard is... quick. He understands." Jaal steps in, but Shepard's not sure his words are helping. His fingers twitch, and he clasps his hands behind his back to hide it.   
  
"I see. Then you aren't about to go charging off into the wilderness like the other one?" Kiiran asks, tone dire, and Shepard looks at her again. The other one? She means Scott. He swallows thickly and shakes his head.  
  
"No." Shepard says nothing else. Kiiran steps closer, as if to scrutinize him further. Shepard wants the ground to swallow him up before his heart hammers its way out of his chest.   
  
"Then why are you here?" she asks, clearly looking for the ulterior motive. Shepard has none.   
  
"I'm here because Jaal asked me to be." he says, as clearly as he can. His voice wants to shake, but he doesn't let it.   
  
"So, you came to the home of the Angara, unarmed, _alone_ ," Kiiran steps back, eyes roving over his armour once and back up, "All because one asked you to. You know nothing about us. Why would you do that?"  
  
Shepard considers her words as carefully as he dares. She has a point, and he's willing to concede it. He isn't here out of the goodness of his own heart -- that's a tall order -- and he certainly isn't here because Jaal asked. He swallows again, throat uncomfortably dry now. He pulls his hands free from behind his back, and brings shaking fingers to fiddle with the clasp until his helmet loosens.   
  
Jaal had spoken with him on numerous occasions since arriving on the Tempest. Shepard remembers bits and pieces of stilted conversation in a hazy room, but most of all he remembers Jaal explaining how upfront the angara liked to be. Shepard could at least try and extend a hand here, even if it's trembling. An honest face seemed better than a mask, right now.  
  
"Ah. I see." Jaal murmurs, realizing Shepard's intentions. He seems pleased when Shepard finally removes the helmet and faces Kiiran, heaving out a heavy sigh as the fresh air hits his clammy face.

He isn't Shepard. Not out here. There's no point in dragging old weight, old names, old hearts, when all they need a new beginning. Shepard needs to let go. He needs to drop the armour. He needs to--  
  
"Let me start again," Shepard fixes Kiiran's gaze, "My name's Cade. I'm here with the Pathfinder. As for _why_ , that depends on you."   
  
A beat of silence. Cade steals a glance at Jaal, whose thin lips curve into a smile as he gives Cade a slow, firm nod. Cade immediately feels the anxiety loosen around his shoulders, giving way to a quieter, burning confidence sitting under his skin. Kiiran steps back again, back to her starting position next to Jaal. Eventually, she nods too.  
  
"Then you are as sharp as Jaal gives you credit for, human." Kiiran sighs, arms folding as she relaxes. "Your Pathfinder is on the outer deck, speaking with our scouts. He can tell you what we've told him."   
  
Kiiran gives him a final nod, and Cade takes that as his cue to leave. He spares a glance at Jaal, who gestures for Cade to head out. He doesn't wait a second longer, turning sharply to head back out into the wilderness creeping over the structure.   
  
The fresh air feels better now, sifting through the slight gap in his neck and rolling down his spine. Cade relaxes with each step he takes away from the main deck, following the sounds of chatter until he can see Scott's figure in the near distance. From there, it's a clear path, and Cade finds his way across in no time.  
  
Scott turns as soon as Cade's boots hit the deck, bright blue eyes seeking him out. Cade is glad of the sight, feeling the last of his worries dissipate into the thick air as he draws closer to Scott.  
  
"Hey, you." Scott greets him, a smile tugging at his lips. Cade wishes he could manage even half a smile in return, but he's still caught in the throes of the conversation he's just left. Scott notices, and Cade feels the heavy weight of a gloved hand on his own shoulder moments later, as Cade braces himself on the deck rail for a second.  
  
"What's wrong?" Scott squeezes Cade's shoulder gently, careful not to jostle it too much. It's still healing, but it's well on the mend by now. Cade appreciates the gesture regardless.   
  
"Just a bit of a wake-up call." Cade admits, shifting when he feels Scott's hand drop away. It's replaced with Scott's warm presence right by his side, their arms pressed together. Scott looks thoughtful for a moment, but his expression is quickly replaced by a faint smile as he looks back up at Cade.  
  
"I think we all needed one." Scott tells him then, and Cade huffs out a quiet laugh, unable to deny him that kernel of truth.   
  
"No shit." Cade manages a crooked smile, though it's more of a smirk when he finally looks at Scott. That blue is unwavering. Cade could stand here and drink it in, lose himself in Scott's confidence for long enough to pretend he stands a chance at taking whatever Andromeda wants to throw at him.   
  
God, he _wants_ to.   
  
And the worst part is, right now, Scott almost looks like he'd let him.


	34. Old Names

After almost tripping over yet another gnarled tree root, Cade lets slip a low growl of frustration. It's not particularly loud, but it's enough to crackle through the undergrowth they've found themselves traversing, and it makes Scott turn around to shush him. Cade looks almost affronted, but he clamps his mouth shut and ducks his head, focusing on getting across the writhing mess of roots and plants he has no name for.  
  
After a moment, he hears Jaal chuckle behind him. Snapping his head up, he looks over his shoulder, stopping. Jaal lands eyes on him through his visor, blinking innocently, but his smile gives him away.  
  
"What's so funny?" Cade hisses, mood growing sourer with every branch that scrapes across his armour and leaves a mark.  
  
"Where you come from, I take it you had less of this to contend with?" Jaal hums, a question more than a statement, and Cade just stares at him.  
  
Sure, Earth was a mess of environments, ranging from lush hotspot climates to downright unlivable biomes. Kind of hard to pinpoint that down into a sentence right now, Cade thinks.  
  
"Well, yeah. Where I grew up, sure." Cade tells Jaal, turning back to keep walking, and he sees Scott waiting for them a few paces ahead. His expression is grim, and Cade knows he's growing impatient. Havarl has made progress slow, and after the springboard of Eos, Scott wants to keep going.  
  
Cade doesn't blame him, but Cade knows progress on a scale like this is never going to come easy. But that's Shepard talking, so he shuts the thought away.  
  
"Where did you grow up?" Jaal asks, and Cade is almost expecting the question. He considers it for a moment, picking his way around a dense patch of shrubbery, stepping down into a shallow stream. The water hits his boot with a familiar rush, and he's hit with a blast of mountain air and green hills as far as the eye can see. It ripples away as soon as the water settles, and Cade carries on.  
  
"Started off in a small village in the British Isles. Mountains and farmland everywhere you looked. After that, New York. Huge, metropolitan jungle, completely concrete. So yeah, none of... _this_." Cade gestures at a twisted tree, looming over at a strange angle to send vines hanging low across the path. Cade brushes them aside, holding them there until Jaal steps through behind him.  
  
"What's the chatter?" Scott asks them when they finally catch up, coming to a stop in a small clearing.  
  
"Shepard is just explaining why he's so adverse to Havarl's natural beauty." Jaal says, a low rumble of laughter in the back of his throat. Cade rolls his eyes.  
  
"Jaal..."  
  
Scott smiles at both of them, but his eyes linger on Cade for longer, and Cade can see the sparks of a witty comment forming.  
  
"Yeah. City boy. Don't show him the swamps, he might leave." Scott snickers, and Cade shoots him a pointed look.  
  
"Right, says the kid from Vancouver." Cade bumps a fist to Scott's shoulder, receiving a bright grin in return.  
  
"These... names," Jaal interrupts them, eyes narrowed with thought, "They are worlds, like Havarl and Voeld?"  
  
Scott shakes his head, eyes lit up with new interest. Cade smiles. Scott loves this part; the information, the facts, putting together a picture over time. It's what he does best, and he's at least glad to see Andromeda has plenty of use for that skill. The Alliance sure as hell didn't.  
  
"They're cities, Jaal. Like your Daar Pelaav, only, bigger. Much bigger." Scott gestures behind Jaal to the path they'd taken, referring to the Daar just beyond the canopy. Jaal nods, listening intently.  
  
"But they are part of a world, yes?"  
  
"Sure, yeah. They're part of a world, Earth. Humanity's homeworld." Scott summarizes, sparing a cursive glance into the foliage around him. Cade follows his line of sight, and spots movement on their peripheral. Narrowing his eyes, he steps forward silently, the lush ground offering a softer, quieter approach than the hard rocks dotted along their path.  
  
Cade looks over the small field in front of them, cut through in half by a ravine that leads deep into the undergrowth, and it's running out from a cave ahead of them. The movement is swallowed up by the blackness of the cave's maw, and his attention is pulled by a metallic glint from a shard poking out of the dense fauna. He can see faded metal under the green, catching the light seeping through the canopy overhead, and there's a familiar logo plastered over a panel, now scratched and worn. Cade looks over at Scott and Jaal, both crouched behind a nearby rock.  
  
Scott frowns, eyes narrowing when they land on Cade with an unspoken question.  
  
"Initiative." Cade murmurs lowly, the blue and white tag unmistakable even in the gloom. Scott's eyes widen for a second before he leans out of cover to look.  
  
"This might be-- Shit. SAM, any relevance to any of the missing arks here?" Scott settles back into cover, omnitool flickering up and lighting the haze a little more than Cade likes. He keeps an eye on the cave entrance, but doesn't move.  
  
"I am unable to provide relevant information with scans, Pathfinder." SAM informs the group over their shared comms, and Scott sighs.  
  
"We have taken out a great deal of the Roekaar today, Ryder." Jaal murmurs, "I do not think they will try again tonight."  
  
It should be clear. Cade knows he doesn't have any weapons bar the pistol Scott gave him once they stepped outside of Daar Pelaav, and he's not sure how he's doing for ammo after the run-in with Havarl's rapidly evolving wildlife. His biotics are humming, ready to fire if he needs them, but as much as Havarl stifles him, he doesn't want to go around ruining the angara homeworld if he can help it.    
  
Scott looks thoughtful, glancing between his omnitool to the dark sky above them. It's getting too dark to do any efficient recon in a place they don't know. Cade can see he's trying to make a decision, so he offers his input.  
  
"If we get this scanned, we can call it a day." Cade suggests, looking down the path they'd just walked. "It's not a difficult road back, and we'll have a navpoint for tomorrow."  
  
Scott nods then, heaving out a sigh as he gets to his feet. Cade and Jaal follow suit, and fall into step behind the Pathfinder as he slips out of cover and into the clearing.  
  
The air feels sharp here, not as heavy now that they're out of the dense undergrowth. Cade keeps his footsteps light, skirting a perimeter while Scott gets to work on scans. Cade can see the soft orange glow of the omnitool in his peripheral, and he makes sure to keep it there while he watches for further movement.  
  
Silence invades the clearing, rushing over the three figures. Jaal keeps stalking around the perimeter, rifle clutched tight in his hands. The flickering light of his visor joins the glow of the omnitool when he turns, only for it to disappear seconds later, the fabric of his armour rustling with his movement. Scott's crouched over, pulling at branches and leaves until he can get at the chunks of metal sticking out of the ground. Cade casts a glance over when Scott unearths something, finding the familiar line of a cryopod sticking out at an angle.  
  
"Oh." Scott breathes, motions slowing as he realizes what it is. The silence turns heavy and morose in an instant, and Cade swallows, throat dry. No doubt Havarl has ended up a graveyard for these people.  
  
Just like Eos.  
  
"SAM?" Scott asks quietly, omnitool hovering over the parts. Thin static covers the area for a brief moment, before SAM's voice follows.  
  
"These are registered components of Ark Natanus, Pathfinder."  
  
Jaal hovers at a distance, back turned. Cade's glance drops to Scott, and he finds himself walking over slowly. Scott tenses, hand lingering over the pod.  
  
"Survivors?" Scott hisses, jerking his hand back as if the touch stings. He stands upright, turning to face Cade.  
  
"These pods are offline. Survival would have been impossible." SAM informs levelly, and Cade can practically feel the air snap with Scott's biotics. Scott mumbles something unintelligible, eyes fixed on the ground, and Cade knows Scott well enough to understand he's angry. This shouldn't have happened, but then again, Cade could say that about half the shit going on in Heleus alone.  
  
He decides to keep quiet, and instead reaches out a hand to curl around Scott's wrist, trying to get his attention. Scott stops moving, and lets his arms fall limp at his sides as he looks up to Cade, eyes darker than they should be.  
  
"Keep moving." Cade says gently, after a moment. He ghosts a thumb over Scott's knuckles, armour plates dragging with familiar motions. It's a gesture they've made countless times between them, but outside of Arcturus, Cade knows it feels different. Feeling his anxiety bubbling up, Cade drops Scott's wrist, turning his eyes to the cave ahead where Jaal is inching closer to the entrance.  
  
"Jaal, wait--" Cade is about to say, but a crack splits the air and he feels Scott's weight on him, pushing him away from the sound. Cade tries to get his footing, but another gunshot rings out and he can feel this one, he can feel the tremor as the shot hits the ground just by his feet, and then Scott's hands are on him again.  
  
"Scott, they're not aiming for us--" Cade tries to argue, but Scott's pulled him into cover, and is reaching for his own rifle.  
  
"They opened fire." Scott cuts him off harshly, hoisting his rifle into one hand.  
  
"Look at where they're aiming!" Cade hisses, gesturing at the scorch marks on the patch of ground they'd just vacated. Scott stops, eyes roving over the singed grass. He hesitates then, leaning on the edge of cover.  
  
"If I go out, they'll shoot." Scott argues, voice brittle with tension that Cade knows is about to snap.  
  
"You're armed. I'm not." Cade unholsters the pistol at his side and lets it drop to the ground. Scott looks at him, sharp and unfaltering.  
  
"No." Scott shakes his head, almost growling. Cade exhales sharply, a hand on Scott's shoulder to pull his attention back when Scott turns away again.  
  
_"Scott._ " Cade seeks out those bright blue eyes, but he finds a marksman staring back at him, "Trust me."  
  
Scott groans, frustrated, anxious, wanting to be anywhere but here. He closes his eyes and turns away. Cade just squeezes his shoulder as Scott leans back against the rock, helmet clunking when it hits the stone.  
  
"Alright." Scott relents, and he opens his eyes again when Cade pushes away, hand leaving Scott's shoulder. Scott shifts closer to the rock, and nods to Cade when he's checked his rifle. Cade takes that as his cue, and steps out into the clearing again, eyes fixed on the cave entrance. There's no flurry of movement, no fired shots, no nothing. Frowning, Cade sucks in a breath and takes a few more steps, finding Jaal in cover just on his peripheral. He keeps moving forward, slow and certain, until a flash of light shows from the cave, followed by a sharp voice.  
  
"Stay right there."  
  
Cade stops where he is, a few feet away from the entrance. It's too dark to see clearly, outside of the flashes of light from omnitools and the glint of gun barrels. It's obviously a group, and they've been holed up for a while, by the looks of the wreckage.  
  
That is, if it even belongs to them. Cade briefly wonders if they've run into scavengers, but given how well guarded Havarl is, it's a long shot.  
  
He manages to stop thinking long enough to pay attention to the figure moving out from the shadows, rifle trained squarely on Cade. Not the first time he's stared down the barrel of a gun, and it probably won't be the last.  
  
"Who are you? What do you want?" the figure steps further out, and in the pale gleam of Havarl's twilight, Cade can make out the unmistakable crest that he associates with turians. Of course. _Natanus_. The turian ark.  
  
"We're Initiative." Cade says cooly, eyes fixed on the turian drawing closer. He hears the familiar clicking of mandibles against the hard face-plates, and a raspy breath that follows.  
  
"Then why are you hiding?" the turian asks harshly, and he steps close enough for Cade to see his markings. Black, sharp, drawn across a pale white faceplate, with eyes that give nothing away. He's seen this face before. He knows the voice. Cade's stomach tightens with a sickening realization, and his mouth turns dry.  
  
"Wait--" the turian seems to have a realization of his own, and Cade wants to take a step back, but his feet won't move, "You're... Hah, no. You can't be him."  
  
"Why not?" Cade challenges without thinking, squaring up, the turian close enough now to press the muzzle of the gun to Cade's chestplate with a low snarl.  
  
"Because he's _dead_ , where he should be."  
  
Cade just stares right back at him, helmet obscuring the worst of his identity. He knows the turian isn't looking past the N7 symbol slapped across his armour.  
  
"We're not here to cause trouble." Scott's voice appears behind them, and Cade glances over his shoulder to find Scott and Jaal approaching, weapons holstered. The way Scott's hands twitch at his sides, Cade half expects him to arm himself the instant the turian isn't looking at him.  
  
"Oh, _you_ might not be," the turian shoves Cade harshly while he's distracted, sending him stumbling backwards until he regains his balance, "But I don't know about _him_."  
  
Avitus Rix. Council Spectre. Saren's protege.  
  
Of course he knows who Shepard is.


	35. Rewind

The way to the cave is littered with bodies, Cade notices. Angaran. Roekaar, he hopes.

Avitus' talon grip tightens around his arm when he slows to look, and Cade's forced to keep step, keenly aware of another turian ghosting his own footsteps. He manages to crane his neck to see where Scott and Jaal are, and he finds them walking behind, no turian guards breathing down their neck. Scott looks pissed, and Cade just hopes he has the sense to keep his mouth shut because Avitus doesn't need any more reason to give Cade a bad day.  
  
Cade returns his attention to the path ahead, curving up into a large cavern, damp and hazy like the rest of Havarl. He tries to suck in a breath, but his helmet is starting to feel too heavy on his neck, tendons pulling sorely when he moves. Grimacing, he keeps count of his footsteps instead. Repetitive, solid, and seeing the ground beneath his feet is comforting, given how weak his legs feel with every step he takes.  
  
Once they reach the main cavern, Cade looks up. Dim lights flicker across the space, keeping most of the gloom at bay, but the bio-luminescent fauna lines the back wall of the cave with an eerie blue glow that Cade can't quite look away from.  
  
At least, not until Avitus shoves him roughly, talons scraping over his armour as he lets him go. Cade stifles a growl, head snapping to train his eyes on Avitus' back as the turian turns to Scott and Jaal behind them.  
  
"Name's Avitus Rix." he introduces himself, sparing a glance at the trail of bodies they'd just passed, "Sorry if my methods seem a little extreme. Civilian life is... trying."  
  
Scott's expression only grows darker as Avitus speaks. Next to him, Jaal seems uncomfortable, Cade notices, given the way he shifts from foot to foot and his hands twitch at the hem of his rofjinn.  
  
"Scott Ryder." Scott humours him with an introduction in return, but he steps forward and gestures to Cade. "Before you carry on with the pleasantries, mind telling me why you're treating him like a criminal?"  
  
Cade almost snorts, struggling to keep his mouth in a straight line. Spectres were never going to be cut and dry, given the nature of their work, but Avitus... well, if anyone could pretend that being a Spectre was an honorable job, it would be Avitus. Cade knows that much.  
  
And Cade knows he dropped off the radar after Saren was exposed. That wasn't a coincidence. Sure, Avitus never had reason to be involved with Saren's particular brand of betrayal, but there's a different kind of betrayal fueling Avitus' current ire, and the only person he can take it out on is standing right behind him.  
  
Cade gets that. He doesn't like it, but he gets it.  
  
"Because anywhere else, he _would_ be a criminal." Avitus responds drily, mandibles flickering to emphasize his displeasure.  
  
"Get over yourself, Rix." Cade grouses, temper finally snapping under pressure. He can feel the way it's splintering, spilling out of his mouth in words he's probably going to regret if they don't stamp this out sooner rather than later.  
  
Avitus turns sharply, shrewd eyes fixed on Cade with a quiet warning. Cade chooses to ignore it.  
  
"Bringing old grudges this far isn't going to do you any favours."  
  
Avitus flares up with anger, taking a few short, sharp strides until he's looming over Cade as best as he can.  
  
"You _ruined_ Saren! Whatever he might have been when he died -- when _you_ _killed_ _him_ \-- he had years of commendations before that." Avitus snaps, "He was respected. Rightly so. That's not something you throw away, Shepard."  
  
Cade doesn't flinch, even when Avitus drops that old name. There's a memory sitting at the back of his mind and it starts to hurt when he reaches for it, so he stops thinking.  
  
"What do you want me to do?" Cade shrugs, and he catches the glint of gunmetal in the corner of his eye that sends his heart hammering, "Give you an apology? Jump back 600 years and pretend this never happened? We have bigger problems to deal with right now."  
  
Avitus blinks, mouth sliding shut as he recoils slightly. A moment later, he steps back. Cade lets out a breath, lungs burning with the way he'd been holding it in.  
  
"Damnit, Shepard. Fifteen years with the council breathing down your neck is no way to live. You got out easy." Avitus' raspy tones lose their fire, quickly dulling like the edge of an old blade.  
  
Cade gives a humourless smile in response, but it's hidden by his helmet.    
  
"Yeah, I _died_."  
  
Avitus snorts derisively, shaking his head as he turns away. "I can't forgive you, but Spirits know I buried Saren a long time ago."  
  
Cade ducks his head, unwilling to face Avitus' words head on. In an instant, he feels his anger ebb away. It's quickly replaced with a quiet uncertainty, a cold self-doubt that worms its way through the cracks in his armour, left there in the shape of an old name. With every step he takes away from Shepard, it seems there's another hand reaching out from the mire to pull him back. Cade wonders if he'll ever have time to stop running. He wonders if Avitus is just going to be another face in a long line of old grudges.  
  
He wonders if Andromeda is ever really going to be a fresh start.  
  
Looking up, Cade finds Scott's eyes on him, curious and a little more concerned than he'd like to see. Avitus blocks their line of sight as he moves back to speak to Scott again.  
  
"You're the human Pathfinder?" Avitus directs the conversation away from the mess behind him, and Cade is glad of the reprieve. His legs are threatening to give away beneath him, and he leans back against the cave wall with a heavy sigh, letting the quiet wash over him while Scott deals with Avitus.  
  
He hears snippets of conversation, the Natanus is mentioned more than a few times, but then Avitus is talking about the turian Pathfinder, and Cade tunes back in.  
  
"SAM hasn't transferred to me, so I know Macen's alive. Just... don't know where." Avitus says grimly, and Cade detects the heavy undertone to his words. Second in command, then, Cade assumes. There's a bitter irony to that, but he doesn't dwell on it.  
  
"He hasn't made it back to the Nexus." Scott tells him, but Avitus just shakes his head.  
  
"Knowing Macen, he's out there looking for me."  
  
_Just_ second in command? Maybe not. Cade narrows his eyes, trying to piece the information together. He pushes himself off the wall, thankful that his armour plates are locking enough to keep his legs straight.  
  
"Macen dedicated his life to Andromeda. He's too stubborn to die now." Avitus continues, and Cade wishes he didn't sound so desperate. Scott shoots Cade a glance over Avitus' shoulder, and Cade shakes his head. _Leave it._  
  
"What's the situation with the Ark?" Scott diverts the conversation easily, glancing away from Cade and to the debris he can see lying just outside the cave. Avitus stalks away for a few paces, gaze cast outwards to the wreckage.  
  
"Debris and pods are scattered across this sector. Between the two of us, we should find something." Avitus sighs wearily, head dropping slightly. Cade almost feels a little sympathetic, but he's not willing to admit that yet.  
  
He can't really ignore it though. There's a part of him wondering, what if it was Scott? What if it was humanity trying to find their Pathfinder? Cade knows there's no way he could deny the fact he'd be tearing the cluster to pieces just to find him.  
  
Avitus has already lost enough to the Milky Way. It's hard to justify losing something all over again in Andromeda.  
  
"We can search tomorrow." Cade says, and Avitus turns to fix him with a steely look. It lasts for mere seconds before it fades into something softer, and then he nods.  
  
"We'll find something, Avitus. Meantime, you should focus on these settlers." Scott steps in, gesturing at the makeshift camp the turians have set up in the cave. Cade can see it's bare-bones survival, they're going to run out of supplies sooner rather than later, and they can't keep fending off the Roekaar.  
  
"I'm just a stopgap. You need Macen." Avitus responds sharply, huffing as he turns back to the conversation, and folds his arms tight. He's not going to budge from there, Cade thinks.  
  
"Anything we can go on?" Scott sighs, fiddling with a clasp on his helmet. Cade hears the click as it slots back into place.  
  
"Rumour has it scavengers found pieces of an ark on a planet called Elaaden." Avitus tells them levelly, but gives nothing else. Scott just nods, and turns his eyes on the cave entrance again.  
  
"Alright. I'll let you know if we find anything."  
  
Avitus nods once, a base acknowledgement, but he doesn't say anything else. Scott gestures to Jaal, making to leave, and Cade goes to follow. He can feel Avitus' eyes on him as he walks, and he's expecting a question to follow him out, but it never does.  
  
Once they're outside, they keep walking, and they don't say a thing. Even Jaal, usually the first to break any kind of silence, keeps his head down and his eyes fixed straight on. The tension is palpable, and it hangs over them the entire way back to the Tempest until the cargo bay closes behind them, and shuts the darkness of Havarl out.  
  
"Thanks, Jaal." Scott murmurs as the doors grate shut, and Jaal looks up, a faint smile on his face. He nods to Scott, and then Cade.  
  
"It was good for them to meet you." he says with quiet gratification, "Better still that you are willing to help them."  
  
Scott shrugs loosely, unfastening his helmet seals and unlocking the clasps to pull it off. He exhales sharply as the cool air hits his face, damp hair slightly stuck to his forehead and cheeks ruddy. Cade finds it a little harder to look away than usual.  
  
"It's the same for us, Jaal. It's good for us to meet your people, and helping them seems like the least we can do after showing up like this." Scott manages a quiet smile back at Jaal, who chuckles quietly and takes his leave.  
  
The armoury door slides shut, and Scott turns his attention to Cade, who's fiddling with his armour clasps. Cade lets slip a groan of frustration when his hands fumble over the seal, and he knows it's because they're shaking. He's running low on energy, and the run in with Avitus hit him harder than he expected. Not to mention Scott had seen the entire thing, for God's sake. He just wants to crash in his bunk and hide for a while, and hope that tomorrow might be a little less of a slap in the face.  
  
"Cade." Scott's voice hits him, and Cade stops. He feels Scott's hands at his neck then, his own breath stuttering, but he hears the click and hiss as Scott releases the clamps and tugs his helmet off. The cool air washes over his face and he sucks in a breath, exhaling sharply before he matches Scott's blue gaze.  
  
"What?" Cade almost grumbles, but Scott just smiles and sets Cade's helmet aside, next to Scott's own on the bench beside them.  
  
"Relax." Scott says simply, turning back, and he pulls one of Cade's arms towards him, and gets to work on the clasps of his gauntlets.  
  
"What are you doi--" Cade is about to ask lamely, voice bleak, but Scott just laughs. It's carefree and easy, soft in the harsh light of the room, and Cade smiles at the sound despite himself. It's been a while since he's heard it so close, and he's had enough of a day to let himself have this moment. He simply watches as Scott handles his armour with gentle gestures, fingers curling around clasps and unlocking them with practised ease.  
  
It's familiar, because they've done this before. On Arcturus. They didn't often run missions or patrols together, but the few times they did, it ended like this. A quiet armoury where they knew they had a moment to themselves, they were allowed to _be_ themselves. There's a certain kind of vulnerability in letting someone take your armour off, piece by scratched-up piece, and Cade can feel the way it sits on his skin like a chill he can't shake.  
  
Still, he tries.  
  
"Let me." Cade takes his turn when Scott pries one of his gauntlets off, setting it down gently. Scott turns his back to him, and Cade works on his shoulders while Scott fiddles with his own gauntlets. This... feels easier than Cade expects it to. He relaxes, and he's especially glad when Scott starts talking again.  
  
"You okay?" Scott asks him, straight to the point. Cade likes that. He knows where he is with Scott, and that makes him feel better than anything else does right now.  
  
"Yeah." Cade doesn't give much away, but the way Scott glances at him over his shoulders is enough to tell him Scott doesn't believe him. Sighing, Cade lets his hands rest on Scott's shoulders for a moment while he tries to get his thoughts into a coherent sentence.  
  
"Okay, no. Not really. I will be, though. It's just... it's hard to move on when things come back to bite you in the ass." Cade admits tersely, words brittle as they hang in the air. Scott just shakes his head, and the words shatter into insignificance.  
  
"You wouldn't have done what you did if you didn't think it was the best option." Scott tries to reassure him, but it falls flat. Cade just scoffs, but he doesn't say anything else.  
  
" _Deryn_." Scott uses an old name, and Cade freezes. Only Scott calls him that, and not... just his _friend_ , Scott. Something more than that. He swallows audibly, pulling a little too hard at one of the clasps holding Scott's shoulderplates together. "Deryn, listen to me. Please. I don't want you to spend your entire time here feeling like you can't move on."  
  
Cade finishes with the last clasp, but his mouth is bone-dry and he doesn't want to speak. He gives Scott's shoulder a nudge when he's done.  
  
"I know what you've done, and you know the shit I've done too. Neither of us are here because we want to be." Scott says gently, rolling his shoulders as Cade pulls the bulk of his armour free, leaving Scott to rid himself of the rest of his arm plates. Once that's done, Scott turns back to face Cade, finding him with his mouth drawn in a grim line and golden eyes cast downwards.  
  
"What are you saying, Scott?" Cade sighs wearily, and he can feel Scott's hand lingering at his waist.  
  
"I'm saying that you're not the only one who's not getting their sleep." Scott murmurs, and it's then that Cade realizes the slight darkness to his eyes, the skin that's paler than usual, stretched tight across his cheekbones. He feels a pang of disappointment that he didn't notice sooner, but it's quickly swept away by the realization of what Scott's saying.  
  
They're both walking aimlessly through terrain they don't know, guided only by what their rank tells them to do, falling into the same old mold of being the level-headed soldier boys nobody needs to worry about. That's all they've ever known. The problem is, when nobody's around to worry about them, when nobody's around to set them on a path; they end up colliding into each other's orbit, time and time again. Gravitational pull.  
  
It's exactly what happened before. Cade just doesn't want to be so arrogant as to presume it's going to happen again. He glances away and chews on his lower lip for a second.  
  
"So, how do we... make it better?" Cade asks carefully, not quite looking up. Scott chuckles then, low and quiet, and Cade finally looks at him. He sees a challenge written in those blue eyes, and it sends a quiet shiver over his skin.  
  
"You're my best friend. I'm not doing this without you." Scott says simply, and Cade doesn't stop the smile that follows. His heart is pounding in his chest, blood rushing to his head as he draws in a sharp breath, trying to keep himself on the ground and not running away with his thoughts.  
  
"I didn't want to presume..." Cade rubs the back of his neck, feeling the heat prickle underneath his fingertips. Scott's clear laughter reaches his ears again, cooling, gentle, a sound he loves to get lost in, but Scott doesn't give him a chance to. Scott makes a point of stepping closer then, fingers hooking carefully under Cade's shoulder plates and releasing the clasps there. Cade reaches up to help Scott pull the plates off, given how he has the height advantage over him.  
  
"Wa-wait, whoops-" Scott mumbles, and Cade pauses when he feels a sudden tug on the armour he's trying to get rid of. When he looks, he finds Scott's arm hooked on the plate by his underarmour, and Cade can't help his ridiculous snort when Scott all but flails to try and get himself unstuck. It just tugs the armour out of Cade's grip, the weight pulling Scott awkwardly to one side before Cade catches his arm and pries it off, letting it fall the rest of the way to the ground where it clatters, but the sound is drowned out by their laughter.  
  
"I guess you're getting attached to me." Cade grins, hand still wrapped firmly around Scott's forearm, but Scott only groans and shakes his head, still smiling.  
  
"No. That was- no. Terrible." Scott's eyes shine with mirth, cheeks flushed brilliantly, and Cade drinks in the sight as much as he can.  
  
He's dangerously close. Close enough for Cade to remember the exact line and shape of his lips, close enough for Scott to cast a furtive glance to Cade's own mouth and back up.  
  
This is stupid, Cade thinks, the endless back and forth when they know exactly where they should be standing. He wants to laugh at himself, at how ridiculous and hesitant he's being around someone who knows him better than anyone, but he doesn't get a chance to dwell on it any longer as he feels Scott's arm pull out of his grip.  
  
Scott's hands are refreshingly cold and firm where they land, gripping either side of Cade's heated face and pulling him in without a word until his lips crash into Scott's own, and he's standing light years away in a memory that slowly begins to form into something more profound. It's white noise that slowly forms into stars on a dark blue sky, their Arcturus sky, and Scott's warm lips are pliant and soft, guiding him easily from memory back into the waking world moments later, once the rush finally subsides.  
  
"Shit-- I-" Scott breaks their kiss too soon, just as Cade manages to get his head around what's happening, but Cade pulls him back in earnest, hands slipping around his waist.  
  
"No, this is-- this is what I want." Cade breathes, Scott's hands clasped firmly at the back of his neck to keep him there, and he fixes Scott's eyes on him again. "Scott. I want this. I want to start again. With you. I don't want to be fucking wondering--"  
  
"We're starting again." Scott cuts him off, "Cade, I promise. We can start again. We're not going anywhere this time."  
  
Scott smiles, and Cade feels like the entire world just lifted off his Atlas-shoulders for a millisecond, long enough to breathe easy and not have his lungs ache, and he returns his own, crooked and golden and just for Scott.


	36. Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a lighthearted chapter for you guys! Things will start picking up massively in terms of intensity as we head after the Archon, so I'm trying to make the change a liiiittle more gradual. I just wanted to extend a massive thank you to all my readers who have commented, left kudos, or even liked/reblogged the tumblr link -- it honestly makes me so, so happy to know that this little idea I had is enjoyed by so many people. Diolch yn fawr <3

Cold.  
  
Voeld is _fucking cold._  
  
Cade is sitting in the Nomad, still shivering, teeth clattering as he sets his eyes out of the viewport and focuses on where he's driving to. Scott's in the seat next to him, talking about something he can't quite place to Drack and Jaal in the back.  
  
Honestly, Cade stopped listening as soon as he started losing any kind of feeling in his hands. He doesn't deal well with the cold, and Voeld is... well, an _icy hellscape_ is putting it nicely.  
  
"Huh," Scott's omnitool flashes bright orange in the corner of Cade's view, clashing boldly with Voeld's blue looming over them, "Navpoint marked for the Resistance base. Easiest way up?"   
  
Cade eyes a ravine ahead of them, iced over and leading upwards. Not the one they'd driven down, but easily a way back up.  
  
"Just ahead." Cade says, directing Scott's attention to the path.  
  
"Right. That looks... safe." Scott doesn't sound convinced, and Cade just smiles quietly to himself, saying nothing else as he shifts the Nomad into ATM and guns the accelerator.   
  
Ever since his and Scott's impromptu reconciliation in the armoury, things have slowly been moving back into place. He's still got a long way to go, there's still cracks that haven't quite been filled in, but it's the little things that Cade notices, and it's the little things that Scott always seems to provide.  
  
First, it had been the insistence that Cade joined them on the ground again. Scott made his case: he knows what it's like to be an Alliance soldier, and he knows that Cade's been lucky enough to have almost seven weeks of recuperation. Cade didn't quite see it that way though - it's been more like seven weeks of fighting off cabin fever with a wrench while Gil snickers at him in the engineering bay. Regardless, Lexi finally relented and gave Cade the reluctant go-ahead, with a promise from Cade that he'd stop by the medbay instead of Lexi having to hunt him down. Having boots on the ground again is something Cade needs. It's purpose, a reason for Andromeda, and Scott knows Cade hates not having one.   
  
Secondly, it had been the quiet nights when Cade's used to staying up alone, waiting for everybody to slow down and go to sleep so he can finally breathe a little easier. These nights are still quiet, but they aren't so empty now that Scott goes out of his way to find him, and they hole up in the gallery or in the cargo bay with endless coffee and plenty of barely-suppressed nostalgia to boot. These are the moments Cade needs to remember, the moments that remind him that his life hasn't always been... _bad_. A lot of it has, but not all of it. For every step he takes back, it's Scott's hand reaching out for him, ready to help him take three steps forward.  
  
And finally, it had been the subtle change of such mundane actions. A word to Cora across the bridge, and Scott follows it up with a smile just for Cade. A clap on the shoulder for Liam after a mission, and Scott follows it up with a brush of fingers over Cade's knuckles where nobody can quite see yet. For every simple, unforgivably human expression Scott shows, he has two more hidden away for Cade, and only him. And honestly? Cade didn't know he needed that until he finds himself missing their closeness when circumstance interrupts and turns Scott back into the Pathfinder, and Cade into a ghost who shouldn't be there.  
  
All in all, it's... a work in progress. Everything is. Cade understands that, and for the first time in a long while, he's learning to be okay with it too. He might not be Commander Shepard anymore, but that doesn't take anything away from what he knows, and it doesn't make him any less useful to the people around him.   
  
Granted, being assigned Nomad privileges was a nice boost. Scott jokes that it's the job nobody wants, but there's a quiet sincerity to his eyes that gives away the fact Scott likes to acknowledge history to pave way for a future. They never met because Cade was a soldier, or because he was the Butcher of Torfan, or even because he was an N7. They met because Cade's an Alliance mechanic at heart, and that's the bottom line he's trying to give him here. It seems silly, in some ways, but to Cade, it's almost a lifeline. Something to hold onto.  
  
Like Scott said, everyone needs a better beginning. No reason they should consider themselves the exception.  
  
" _Woah,_ okay." Scott laughs nervously next to Cade, pulling him from his thoughts. Cade glances at him briefly with a smile on his face before turning back to keep his eyes on the darkened path he's driving them through. He's quick on the levers, hands moving in expert, precise motions to land right where they need to be, guiding the rover like it's second nature. Doesn't stop Scott from clutching onto his own seat with a white-knuckle grip, though, and Cade tries his best not to laugh.  
  
Eventually, they track up back to the Resistance base.   
  
"Who are we meeting, Jaal?" Scott asks over the low hum of the engines as Cade guides the Nomad to a rolling stop, careful not to brake hard over the ice.  
  
"Commander Heckt. He will be by the shuttles." Jaal informs them easily, and Cade switches the ignition off.   
  
"Well, let's gear up. It's a _little_ chilly out there." Scott sighs, reaching to pull his gloves and helmet back on. Cade just snorts at his lame joke, Drack's low grumble resounding in the back in mutual exasperation as they both grab the rest of their gear.  
  
Fully covered up, Scott swings the Nomad door open and heads out. Cade follows him, sucking in a breath as the cold hits him hard, square in the chest. It's absolutely relentless, cutting through every slight groove in his armour when he moves. His chest feels tight, and speaking seems like a waste of energy. The entire group falls silent and into step up the mountain, and Jaal takes them to the shuttles where Commander Heckt is waiting.  
  
"You the Pathfinder?" Heckt grunts when they draw closer, voice muffled by his helmet. "Evfra sent you?"  
  
Scott nods, moving up to take his place at the head of the group. "Yeah, that's me."  
  
"We're the team assigned to breach the facility with you." Heckt explains, "Hopefully rescue Moshae Sjefa."   
  
Cade drags the heel of his boot through the snow, watching as it drifts up and settles, leaving his footprint behind. Terrain would be unforgiving if they got caught outside, and their shields wouldn't last against the cold. They need to get inside, however risky that might be.  
  
"I'm your pilot." the angara next to him breaks his silence, and Cade's head snaps up at the new voice. "Kett facility is on the other side of the planet."  
  
Well, at least they had a way there.  
  
"Are you ready to head out?" Heckt asks, and Scott gives the go-ahead. He nods once, and turns sharply to make his way onto the waiting shuttle behind the pilot. Jaal follows, and Drack lumbers after him with another low grumble about snow being in places it shouldn't be.  
  
Scott lingers for a bit, and Cade steps up next to him, nudging his shoulder with his own.  
  
"Did you freeze on the way over?" Cade quips easily, and Scott looks at him with a deadpan stare through his visor.  
  
"Funny." Scott gives Cade a shove so he's forced to walk in front as they move back into step towards the shuttle.   
  
"Seriously, are you okay?" Cade looks over his shoulder, and waits for Scott's answer.  
  
"There's a lot riding on this." Scott shrugs loosely, "Not sure how a strike team is meant to take out an entire operation."   
  
Cade sees his point. On paper, they're vastly outnumbered. On the ground? It looks a little different. They're not at an advantage here, and the only thing they have on their side is the element of surprise if they get this right.  
  
If not, then it turns into a very steep uphill battle. Cade's fought plenty of those, but one man isn't going to do shit against an organised base unless they intend on blowing it to pieces.  
  
Virmire proved that much. As soon as the name flickers across his memory, Cade shuts it down.  
  
"Cross that bridge when we get there." Cade sighs, "Right now, it's about actually getting there."   
  
"You make it sound so easy." Scott gives Cade's arm a gentle thwack as he passes, the metal gauntlets ringing slightly. Cade scoffs, and follows Scott onto the shuttle without another word.  
  
The ride over is shrouded with a tense silence, only broken up with radio static and chatter from the Resistance. There's a vague plan in place, but nobody wants to poke at it until they land for fear of finding a flaw. They don't have time for mistakes on this one.  
  


* * *

  
Climbing out of the shuttle, Cade looks up to find a swathing mass of blue energy encasing the base. A shield. A very large, very impenetrable looking shield.  
  
They mean to use SAM's processing power in conjunction with a disabling program the angaran scouts have put together. Cade wonders if that's going to be enough.  
  
He looks over at Scott, who's just staring blankly at the field. The Resistance scouts file out behind them, and the chatter kicks up like the snow flurries at their feet.  
  
"They won't expect us to disable that shield." one of the angara scouts says, but he sounds overly chipper about the whole thing, "That'll give us an edge."  
  
He's not wrong. The kett clearly built this place to be a threat. It's imposing, looming over the few Daars left on Voeld like a reminder of their sentence. Untouchable, and in plain sight. The worst kind of temptation for a lot of vengeful families, Cade imagines.  
  
"Intel says there's a system node to hack, on an interface point somewhere around here." the last scout says, springing down from her place on a nearby rock to start looking. Scott follows her, pulling his scanner up to help.  
  
They find the interface along a shield pylon, and Scott immediately gets to work. He runs the shield disabling process, and when it inevitably gives out, SAM lends its power to get the job done.  
  
Nothing happens for a moment, and then a moment more. Scott sighs.  
  
"SAM, please don't embarrass me in front of our new friends." he mumbles lowly, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. Cade smiles at that, but a part of him wonders just how much SAM understands now. It's been a while since he had a proper conversation with the AI, Cade figures.   
  
SAM crackles over the comms in the next moment as a gap in the shield opens up, and is torn wide -- enough for the group to slip through. They don't waste time, getting inside before the tear snaps shut behind them.  
  
A small rocky ledge gives them access to a vent, where the blades are shut.   
  
"Cade, mind using your biotics for this?" Scott asks, tapping at a panel with a curled fist. It's hollow and easily breakable, but going in with guns literally blazing is only going to draw attention they don't need.   
  
Cade nods, feeling the familiar crackle and hum of energy over his armour, and he pulls it into shape. He throws his hand forward, fist curled around the blast until he lets go and the vent shatters, soundwaves disrupted by the rolling energy. It's quiet enough to avoid raising the alarm.  
  
Shaking his biotics off, Cade jumps down and hauls his rifle from its holster, turning to Scott for his orders. Scott gives him a strange look then, but it passes quickly when he hears a commotion from further in. The distinctive, gnarled language of the kett reaches their ears before they know where they're going, and the scouts almost take off before Scott tells them not to.   
  
"Keep it simple." Scott warns them, briefly glancing to Heckt to see if he's crossing any boundaries. Heckt just gives him an approving nod, readying his rifle, so Scott carries on. "Pick your targets, we'll clear that room out easy."  
  
The scouts murmur their assent, dropping into a better position and waiting for Heckt's orders. Scott turns back to his own squad, eyes landing on Jaal.  
  
"Jaal, it's your call -- you can support Heckt's squad or scope with me." Scott says calmly, unholstering his sniper from his back and unlocking the scope. Jaal hums in thought for a second, then nods to Heckt.  
  
"I will keep an eye on the scouts, Ryder." Jaal confirms, and Scott turns to look between Drack and Cade.  
  
"Drack, Cade." he gets their attention easily, both pairs of eyes on him in the next instant, "Just... uh. Do what you do best."  
  
"Punch shit until it breaks?" Drack rumbles, grinning, all sharp teeth and crooked glances. Cade chuckles lowly, a little too pleased to be grouped up with the krogan. He _is_ a close quarters specialist, after all.   
  
"We'll follow you." Scott sighs at Drack, who nudges Cade in turn, the force shoving Cade a few steps ahead. Cade grumbles, but he peers over the edge and eyes the lineup of kett they're about to face. Mostly grunts, easily subdued with a shockwave or a nova if he needs it. His biotics spark and crackle before he's about to jump, and he hears Drack behind him.  
  
"Off you go then, sparky." Drack is delighted by their situation, eager to get his claws on some kett, and the nickname only sounds that much more ridiculous in context.  
  
"Spark-- that's such a _shit_ name, Drack." Cade groans, hearing the krogan's rumbling laugh, but he lets it fade into the background as he pulls himself through the air with a snap and a rush of ozone.


	37. Interference

Cade's seen Scott angry before. It's a cold kind of brutality that covers him from head to toe, makes him brittle and turns his words into icy shards that hurt when he speaks. It never lasts long, though. He thaws easily, takes a deep breath and pulls himself together in one fluid motion that leaves Cade a little envious of how simple he makes it look.  
  
God knows Cade doesn't do that.  
  
But now, staring down the Cardinal, Scott's hands don't even shake. His voice is colder than Voeld itself, and Cade almost flinches at the sound when he speaks.  
  
"She's coming with us." he tells the Cardinal, eyes blown wide with a quiet fury at what he's witnessed in the base. Moshae Sjefa hangs limply off his shoulder, barely supporting her own weight. She's in bad shape, Cade can tell, and Jaal's expression only makes his worry grow deeper. If they can't get her to safety, this whole thing falls through. Their one chance at progress gets shot to pieces right in front of them.   
  
Cade doesn't know if any of them could handle that.   
  
The bottom line: they need her alive. If the Cardinal has the power to change that -- and Cade doesn't doubt that he does -- then they need to play it smart, here.  
  
Cade swallows, the cold making his throat tight and his fingers numb, unable to feel. He tries to tighten his grip on the rifle in his hands, but it feels like catching smoke, and the only thing keeping the gun in place is the fact he's pulled a trigger more times than he should ever have had to. Muscle memory.  
  
And the cold... the cold is making him stumble into memory again. Noveria. Benezia. The way it all rings so clearly in his mind, and it leaves an echo that won't go away. He remembers Kaidan, his gentle voice sounding so out of place in the freezing cold, and the way he used to make such mundane, ordinary comments. _Should've brought a sweater._ It made Cade smile behind the smokescreen of his helmet, and he learned how to be thankful for the little things.  
  
 _Stop thinking._ Cade shakes his head, trying to force his attention back to Scott, now stalking towards the Cardinal.   
  
Kaidan won't leave his mind. Cade grits his teeth and exhales sharply, watching the way Scott doesn't even hesitate. Kaidan did the same thing.  
  
Virmire.  
  
 _Stop thinking!_  
  
"This is a gift!" the Cardinal snarls, bone-plates moving grotesquely as the words spill out, "Who are you to deny it?"   
  
"You turn them into monsters that fight their own people." Scott says, voice unwavering with the cold.  
  
"These Chosen join with us to become great. Beyond your ability to understand." the Cardinal doesn't back away, looming over Scott who stares up with nothing but defiance. Cade misses the rest of the Cardinal's words, because he can see how Scott's hands are twitching, and the way he's setting his stance so subtly, but it's enough for Cade to see what's going to happen next.  
  
"You don't get to decide what's great." Scott hisses, and he's too close, far too close--  
  
All Cade can see is Kaidan's biotics snapping as Saren laughs at them, untouchable, shrouded in his disillusions. It's instinct that kicks in, it's a CO trying to stop his lieutenant from pulling a stupid stunt. Cade lunges forward, grabbing Kaidan's arm, but it's not Kaidan who looks back at him.  
  
"Kaidan, don't--"  
  
Scott looks at him, expression unreadable. Those cold blue eyes are not Kaidan's deep brown, and Cade didn't think it was possible to feel even colder, but his blood turns to ice water and he falls completely silent after his realization.  
  
"Pathfinder, there are several Kett cruisers inbound." SAM's level tone shatters the tension for a moment, and Scott jerks his gaze away from Cade.  
  
"Is there an off switch to this horror palace?" Scott grouses, looking around, anywhere but at Cade.   
  
"I am able to overload the EM shield at your command." SAM confirms, but Jaal's protest reaches the conversation.  
  
"You promised you'd get our people out!"   
  
Scott pauses, looking at Jaal. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth and exhales slowly, and Cade can see all the scenarios playing behind his eyes. He needs to choose.  
  
"We don't have time. Gettin' those pods open and clearing out the place--" Drack rumbles, breaking his silence as the tension coils back in place, unrelenting.   
  
"Wait!" the Cardinal hisses, interrupting Drack, "Leave my sacred temple intact. I will open the pods of the Chosen. Take them -- just leave this holy place standing."  
  
This place needs to be destroyed. There's no telling how many more angara will find themselves here if it's left standing. There's nothing they can do for the ones still inside--  
  
"No. Even if I die here, this place must be destroyed!" the Moshae protests weakly, clearly deteriorating fast.  
  
"We can come back to destroy it; let's free these people first." Jaal tries to suggest, but the Moshae shakes her head, defiant.  
  
"If your plan fails, the kett will simply fill this place again."   
  
Cade has to agree with her. It's brutal, but stamping this place out is the long-term safety net they need for Voeld.  
  
"With respect," Jaal argues quietly, still softly-spoken, "Our compatriots are here. Our fighters. Our scientists. Our strength."  
  
Scott doesn't hesitate. Cade can see his choice before he even says it. There's no way Scott would ever waste lives like that.  
  
"Release the angara." Scott turns to the Cardinal with a grimace, and the Cardinal is quick to issue the command. She's frantic. Desperate.   
  
"Jaal, have the Resistance free as many as they can before the kett arrive." Scott throws over his shoulder, but he doesn't look at Jaal or the Moshae. Jaal nods, hurrying ahead to disappear back into the base after a rushed 'thank you' to Scott.  
  
"I thank you too." the Cardinal begins to move away, and Cade hates the thought of letting her go without a single shred of retribution, "I see you begin to understand the gift that the kett bring to all of Andromeda."  
  
Scott snarls, low and visceral, and the Cardinal makes the mistake of turning her back. In a flash, Scott reaches and yanks Cade's rifle from his hands.  
  
"Not _fucking_ likely."   
  
A single burst of gunfire, followed by a heavy thud. Cade looks between the Cardinal's pathetic body on the floor and Scott, breathing heavily, anger rolling off him in waves as his shoulders shake. This isn't him at all. Cade almost reaches out again, but Scott just turns and shoves the rifle back into his grip with a growl, the force sending Cade stumbling backwards.   
  
"Get to the evac point." Scott orders, voice level, empty, completely blank. Cade hates it.   
  
Drack shoots him a quizzical look across the way, but Cade just shakes his head and grumbles, pulling himself into motion. He stops thinking, a little too late, and heads after Scott.

* * *

  
The armoury is painfully quiet, this time around.   
  
Cade takes his time loosening every piece of snow-dusted armour, chewing over every possible apology he could make to Scott. Why the _fuck_ did he call him _Kaidan?_ Cade groans, digging the heel of his palms into his eyes until he sees colours spotting on the black. He pulls them away and opens his eyes, inhaling deeply, lungs not hurting so much now that they're back inside the Tempest's climate-controlled environment.  
  
Behind him, he can hear a locker slamming, and he knows it's Scott. A rush of cold anxiety hits him, but he grits his teeth and turns, hoping to catch Scott before he leaves. Scott's standing there, looking blankly at his locker, and Cade notices the way his hands are clenching at his sides.   
  
"Scott, I'm sorry." Cade blurts out, not bothering to wait until Scott's paying attention. Scott turns, looking confused for a split second, but his expression softens into something kinder when he finds Cade looking at him with wide-eyes.   
  
"What for?" Scott asks quietly, brow furrowing. He turns the rest of the way and takes a few steps closer to Cade, absently reaching to brush some snow from Cade's arm. Cade balks for a second, mind racing, bewildered at Scott's innocent question. Isn't he supposed to be angry?   
  
"I, uh-- you're not angry with me?" Cade stumbles into a question of his own, trying to distract himself by undoing the rest of the clasps on his remaining glove. He sees Scott step closer again, until he's got no choice but to look at him, properly. He swallows, expecting to find those eyes full of cold ire again, but when he looks, they're back to their usual soft blue.   
  
"Why would I be angry with you?" Scott sounds just as confused as Cade feels, and Cade almost wants to laugh at the situation. He's overreacting. Of course he is. Cade shakes his head, dropping his glove into his locker and pressing the door shut before he sits down on the bench and runs a hand through his damp hair.  
  
"I-- uh, called you Kaidan." Cade admits, cautiously sparing a glance up at Scott.   
  
"Yeah. I heard that. Why would I be angry at you about that?" Scott huffs, leaning against Cade's locker as he folds his arms over his chest. Cade looks at him for a second longer, trying to gauge where he's at.   
  
"I don't know." Cade says then, feeling a little more than stupid. His cheeks are burning slightly, and he drops his gaze to the floor, hand rubbing at the back of his neck.   
  
"Cade." Scott sighs, "I get it. You think I haven't called Liam the wrong name at least twenty times by now?"   
  
Cade manages a tiny smile, and he sees Scott moving to sit on the bench next to him, knocking their knees together as he does.

"I am pissed, but... for the angara. About what we saw today." Scott admits then, and Cade suddenly makes sense of it all. He and Scott are two of a kind by far, but this is where they differ the most. Scott's intensely empathetic, always has been, and Cade forgets how things affect Scott far deeper than they affect him. He swallows thickly and berates himself silently for being so selfish.  
  
"This is... still raw, isn't it?" Scott digs a little further, and Cade can feel his gaze boring into him. He's not wrong, though. Those memories are only haunting him because they feel like yesterday, not... _years_ ago. He can't distance himself, because he doesn't know where the cut-off point lies. What happened to them? At some point, they had the chance to let Shepard go.   
  
Cade hasn't quite gotten there yet.   
  
"Yeah. It's just... these memories keep cropping up, and I get lost in them because they feel so _real_ , you know? This whole shitstorm on Voeld felt exactly like--" Cade sighs heavily, rubbing his face tiredly, but he stops himself. He doesn't want to get back into it. He sits in silence for a moment, but then he feels Scott's hand on his knee, squeezing gently.  
  
"We don't have to talk about it." Scott reassures him easily, and Cade just nods lamely, staring at the floor.   
  
"Well, now I just feel like an idiot." Cade manages a quiet laugh, and Scott nudges his shoulder.  
  
"You're not." Scott squeezes his knee again, and Cade sets his own hand over Scott's, curling around his fingers. "Well, maybe sometimes. But even then, you're _my_ idiot. So..."   
  
Cade smiles a little brighter at that. And when he looks up at Scott again, he finds him smiling right back, and his worries disappear.  
  
"Thank you." Cade tells him, and he means it. Scott doesn't say anything, and Cade takes the opportunity to lean in and press a fleeting kiss to Scott's cheek, right where his smile curves into a telltale dimple.   
  
"He- oh, _whoops_." a new voice filters across the room, making the two of them jump, almost skittering away from each other on the bench until they realize who it is. Gil's smirking, eyes lit up with glee, and Cade just shoots him a look.  
  
"What?"   
  
Gil raises an eyebrow, and Cade knows he's going to be in for a serious talk if Gil ever finds him alone. Which he will. Almost certainly by tonight.  
  
"Lexi's after you." Gil tells Cade, but then he glances to Scott. "I could just tell her you're busy. Doing, uh, official Pathfinder business."   
  
Scott snorts, muffling a laugh, and Cade just sighs.  
  
"Hilarious." Cade says drily, and Gil snickers, clearly enjoying this. Next to Cade, Scott nudges his knee to draw his attention back.  
  
"Go see her. I have a report to file." Scott says, lopsided smile still in place, and Cade finds it hard to say no.   
  
"Alright. I'll see you later." Cade reluctantly removes himself from Scott's close proximity, pushing himself up off the bench and heading over to the armoury door where Gil's leaning, still smirking. He giggles helplessly as Cade passes, and Cade just groans.  
  
"Jesus, of all the people on this ship, it had to be you."   
  
Gil follows him out.  
  
"Of course. Who else is going to torment you like I am?"   
  
Despite it all, Cade smiles. This is the most normal he's felt since waking up. Hell, this is the most normal he's felt since leaving Arcturus in the first place. Whatever Andromeda has in store, Cade can at least be happy with the fact that he's not going to be buckling under the weight of careful pretense like he was back home. Shepard can rest. Cade can start again.  
  
In that, Cade thinks he might just be able to find a future, instead of trying to outrun a past.


	38. Underground

Kadara's a cesspool.  
  
That's about the nicest thing Cade can say, if he's being honest, and he usually is.  
  
The rancid smell of sulphur still clings to armour long after they get back onto the Tempest, and Cade's spent far too many hours scrubbing at plates to try and get rid of it. It's not just the stench that sets his hypersensitivity on edge, it's the feeling that Kadara shrouds itself with. A city of cloak and daggers; a secret waiting in every corner with a loaded gun sitting behind it, just in case. Cade's afraid to look at anyone.   
  
It's not that he's afraid of what they might do, he's afraid of how much it reminds him of Earth.   
  
_His_ Earth. Not Scott's idyllic childhood, or Liam's comfortable family life. His Earth was grey streets, always at nighttime, pink and dirty neon lining whatever fragments of memory he recalls of it. His Earth was cold and hard, unforgiving, painted red with a gruesome combination of sand and the blood of the man he'd killed to get it.  
  
And somehow, Kadara brings it all back.   
  
In that alone, Cade can figure out how Kadara works. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, but they'll take more than they're owed if they can get it. The Reds taught him well, despite their methods, and Cade isn't blind to the way those people are raking beady eyes over Scott's armour, wondering how much the Pathfinder might be worth.  
  
There's no denying that Cade has plenty of suspicions about the contact they're about to meet, too. Evfra's pointed them to Kralla's Song, a dive bar in the market district, and the perfect place for an ambush. Cade's already tense as he steps off the Tempest behind Scott and Drack, shooting a frosty glance at the dockworker who looks him up and down for a little longer than he likes. The worker scowls and stalks off, leaving Cade to follow Scott through the busy dock until they reach the gate.   
  
"Alright kid, don't get yourself in no trouble." Drack claps Scott roughly on the shoulder as they step through the creaking gate. Scott huffs, losing his breath for a second, and then he shoots Drack a quizzical look.  
  
"Vetra needs my help. And you don't want me tagging along to your little party." Drack explains, smiling wryly. Cade isn't sure he wants to know any more. Scott seems to think the same, and he just nods. Drack ambles away into the throng of people clustering down in the market, and Cade leans forward against the cold rail, peering down into the crowd.  
  
These people are desperate. Every one of them has the same sharp lines of hunger drawn on sallow faces, eyes darting from person to person to find an easy mark. They move in hurried paces, shoulders hunched, and Cade lands eyes on the few figures standing guard across the marketplace. They're all outfitted in the same threadbare armour, notably a little more upmarket than most of Kadara, with guns holstered at their sides and faces drawn into stone-cold grimaces. They don't want to be here. Someone's paying them.   
  
"Thoughts?" Scott nudges Cade's arm, leaning against the rail next to him. He shoots a quick glance down into the crowd, but turns his gaze back on Cade moments later.  
  
"Plenty." Cade raises an eyebrow, still assessing.   
  
"Well, I'm out of credits to share." Scott hums, and Cade knows he's asking for advice.  
  
"You'll have to buy my insight with something else then." Cade smirks, just a little, still not quite comfortable in this place. Scott's laughter is easy and soothing, though, and Cade breaks his scrutiny to catch a glimpse of Scott's smile.   
  
"That can be arranged," Scott's laughter subsides into a lopsided grin, eyes bright, "But consider it an IOU. Spill."  
  
Cade snorts, shaking his head at Scott's questionable bargain, but he smiles nonetheless. "Alright. Someone's paying half of these people off to look like they want to put a hole in someone's head. The other half are trying to rob each other. My advice? Don't talk to them."   
  
Scott raises his eyebrows with a sigh, smile fading as he looks out over the crowd again. He thinks quietly for a moment, and then he nods to a storefront tucked away in a corner past the crowd.  
  
"Suvi wanted me to pick something up." Scott says, "You head to Kralla's, scope it out. I'll be there in five."   
  
"Yes, boss." Cade rolls his eyes, pushing himself off the rail with a sigh. He doesn't really want to go it alone -- he feels safer with Scott around -- but it makes sense to get a lay of the land individually. Suspicion is easy to generate around here, and they want to avoid it as much as they can.  
  
"Hm, 'boss' doesn't quite have a ring to it." Scott snickers, already making his way over to the stairway down into the market.  
  
"Get back to me on that one, then." Cade challenges, and he's glad to hear another short, sweet roll of laughter before it disappears into the crowd.   
  
Alone, Cade is entirely more in-tune with Kadara's underground. He can feel the city humming beneath his feet, the generators covering the worst of the backstreet dealings, and he focuses in on it as he starts to walk. Cade sets his eyes on the hazy neon sign of Kralla's, fingers uncurling from fists in a conscious effort to look a little more like the crowd. He fits in far better than Scott does - he's not parading around in Initiative branded gear - and it works in his favour, so he might as well use it.  
  
The bouncers inside the door barely look him up and down as Cade enters, the smell of smoke almost overwhelming the sulphur, but not quite. He blinks, adjusting to the dim light of the bar, and scopes it out with a careful eye as he makes his way down the stairs. There's a few figures milling around with the same hunched posture, avoiding eye contact like their life depends on it. Cade figures it probably does.   
  
Stepping down off the last step Cade brushes past a group of whispering exiles, and he almost wants to criticize their lack of subtlety about the cargo they're planning on pushing tonight. He reaches the bar and slides onto a rickety barstool, one foot remaining planted on the floor in case he needs to get out, fast. Old habit.   
  
"What do you want?" the bartender asks brusquely, and Cade looks to find an asari staring back at him. She doesn't smile, and he can see something glinting on her belt as she walks over. A knife, by the looks of it. He swallows, and takes a fleeting glance away to the row of bottles sitting on ramshackle shelves behind her.  
  
"Just... uh, whiskey. Neat." he mumbles, leaning an elbow on the bar. The asari snorts, lips twisting into an almost-smirk.  
  
"That's the only way we serve it."   
  
Cade doesn't smile back. She serves him his drink and moves on to another lonely figure propped up at the bar, leaving Cade to his thoughts. He stares down at the dull amber liquid in the glass, and turns it a few times to the right. Watching the whiskey swirl around is calming, enough to stop the prickling at the back of his neck that feels like somebody's watching him--  
  
"You look like you're waiting for someone."   
  
Cade sits upright, head snapping to look. He catches a flash of hazel under dark lashes, brow furrowed as the apparent cockiness in the voice turns to total confusion. The man steps closer, slowing down, eyes growing wide with realization, but Cade is still trying to catch up. He knows this face. He knows the voice.  
  
"Shepard." the man says, and Cade recognizes the smirk that follows. It's worn on a youthful face, and Cade remembers that face in a different light. Dress blues, pilot wings, cap tucked under one arm and a salute given with the other.   
  
"Reyes." Cade finds a name somewhere in the memory, and he stands, absently reaching out to take Reyes' outstretched hand. They shake, and Cade withdraws to his seat as Reyes slips in easily onto the barstool next to him with a low chuckle. He gestures to the bartender without a word, and then turns to Cade with a sly grin.  
  
"You look well for dead."   
  
Cade takes a sip of his own drink, the burn making him grimace, but he turns it into a smile.  
  
"Still got that mouth, I see." Cade retorts easily, setting his glass down as the asari slides Reyes' drink to him.  
  
"It's what gets me places, Shepard." Reyes quips, "You of all people should know."   
  
Cade snorts, unamused. Reyes charmed his way into plenty of places, especially the places where profits might be made. Cade never quite cut off all contact with the Reds, he was still working with a hand behind his back when he joined the Alliance, and Reyes had been... helpful. After the initial pirate invasions in the Verge, supplies easily went 'missing' on the hectic patrols from Alliance bases across the local cluster. Reyes just happened to be a pilot with his eyes set on more than just the sky.  
  
It worked well enough for them to strike up a begrudging friendship, if nothing else.  
  
"You don't seem that surprised." Cade says simply, twirling his glass again. Reyes cocks his head, and Cade can feel that intense glare boring into him.  
  
"Oh, I was." Reyes replies, unusually muted, "Soldiers die. Not friends."  
  
Cade doesn't say anything else, and focuses on finishing his drink instead. How many people? How many more names is he going to have to remember? How many familiar faces is he going to have to find again? Part of him is angry, irrationally so, that Reyes has the gall to show up. Mostly, he's just glad to see a friend.  
  
"And information comes by easily on Kadara, when you have the right words." Reyes explains, glancing around the bar absently.   
  
"And of _course_ you did." Cade responds drily, earning another throaty chuckle from Reyes.  
  
"I won't bother you for your secrets if you don't bother me for mine." Reyes offers easily, presenting his now almost empty glass to Cade, who stares at it for a moment. He raises an eyebrow -- trusting Reyes would be a terrible mistake and he knows it -- but he clinks his glass to Reyes' own in silent agreement anyway. Cade's left that life behind, even if Reyes hasn't. Getting back into it now would be a huge step in the wrong direction.  
  
Hell, just _being_ on Kadara feels like a bad idea.   
  
Cade licks his dry lips and pushes his glass away. He wonders where Scott is, and his heart starts to race when he realizes it's been longer than five minutes. Cade spares a glance at the door, lingering there for a moment too long.  
  
"So you _are_ waiting for someone." Reyes murmurs, and Cade almost scowls at him. Looking back to the man, Cade gives a half-hearted shrug.  
  
"Pathfinder." he answers curtly, not daring to give a name. Reyes blinks, twice, and sets his drink down with a sharp exhale.  
  
"You're with the Initiative?" Reyes asks, and Cade notices how suddenly tense he's become. He spies Reyes' hand on the bar, curling tight around the edge, and the gesture makes him think twice about what he's going to say next.  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
Reyes narrows his eyes slightly.  
  
"I don't work for them, if that's what you're asking." Cade tries again, easily playing along with Reyes' little performance. Exiles all have their agenda against the Initiative, and Cade has no reason to believe Reyes is any different.  
  
"But you work with the Pathfinder." Reyes adds on, but Cade can see Reyes' hand relaxing, settling back on the bartop around his glass again. Better, Cade thinks.  
  
"Yes." he confirms.  
  
"One of your secrets?" Reyes leans a little closer, and Cade just smirks back at him.  
  
"That depends on you."   
  
Footsteps draw towards them, pulling both sets of eyes to land on the Pathfinder in question.   
  
"Not interrupting, am I?" Scott asks cooly, and Cade watches Reyes lean back out of the corner of his eye. Cade turns so he can see Scott properly, perching almost on the edge of his barstool.  
  
"I think I found our Resistance friend." Cade tells him, and Scott nods, once.   
  
"Shena, right?" Scott turns to Reyes, blue eyes sharp in the hazy light of the bar. Reyes looks taken aback for a split second that Cade catches with a self-satisfied smirk.   
  
"Call me Reyes." he quickly puts on his cavalier smile, "I hate codenames."   
  
Scott folds his arms across his chest, adopting his usual stance. Cade calls it the Pathfinder look; Scott hates it. It's authoritative, shoulders straight, feet planted squarely, eyes locked on the poor bastard he's trying to interrogate.   
  
Neither of them can argue with his success rate, though.  
  
"I was expecting someone more... angaran." Scott admits, and Cade agrees. Reyes has obviously found a job in this, but even so, Cade wouldn't expect Reyes to be sympathetic to a cause that can't offer much.  
  
"The Resistance pays me to supply information. Among other things." Reyes says, carefully. He gestures to the empty glasses on the bar, asking if Scott would like one, but Scott shakes his head and carries on.  
  
"So you're a smuggler?" Scott clarifies without hesitation. Reyes almost smirks, but he doesn't answer.   
  
"Yes." Cade answers for him instead, "And a damn good one too."   
  
Scott shoots him a questioning look, and Cade knows he's gonna have to answer that one later. For now, Scott leans a hip against the bar next to Cade and turns his attention back on Reyes.  
  
"Your man -- Vehn Terev -- was arrested by Sloane Kelly, leader of the Outcasts. Word spread about what he did to Moshae Sjefa." Reyes gets stuck into the gory detail before Cade can inconvenience him any further.   
  
"The people are calling for his execution. And Sloane?" Reyes pauses, drumming his fingers absently on the bartop, "She's a woman of the people."   
  
Scott snorts, derisive and almost arrogant with the way his smile reappears, half-quirked.   
  
"Well, I'm taking him." he says, "With or without her permission."  
  
Cade smiles to himself, morbidly amused.  
  
If Reyes thought _he_ was bad, he's got another problem on his hands with Scott Ryder at the helm. That's a storm in and of itself, and Cade's just glad he's on the right side of it.   
  
"We're gonna be friends, you and I." Reyes is undeterred, playing his trade like a well worn fiddle. Cade can see the final pieces slipping into place, spurred by Reyes' obvious distaste for Sloane, however well he might try to hide it. This is a turf war, and Scott's about to walk right into the middle of it.  
  
This time round, there's nothing Cade can do to stop it.  
  
"There might be another way to get to Vehn." Reyes goes in for the final push, "You work Sloane. I'll talk to the Resistance."  
  
Scott looks thoughtful for a moment, but the idea seems to play out well enough in that brilliant mind of his. Cade can see Reyes is waiting to go, sliding out of his seat and onto the balls of his feet, turned towards the exit.  
  
"Alright." Scott accepts the suggestion, and Reyes gives him a quick smile, a flash of teeth, before he turns fully and makes to leave.  
  
"Wait -- how do I contact you if things go south?" Scott asks, and Reyes half-turns back to him, stopping momentarily. He only smiles, shooting Scott a sly wink before he's off again, and this time, Scott doesn't stop him.


	39. Routine

The crack of a fresh card deck has become a familiar sound to Cade lately, sitting across from Gil in the kitchen. There's a pot of coffee brewing, and the rattle and hum of the Tempest around them is a comfort to both of them.   
  
"Raise you ten." Gil flicks his cards with a deft finger before setting them face down on the table, smiling smugly. Cade just looks at him from across the table, too tired to really pay attention. Gil's smile falters briefly, eyes flashing with concern, but he says nothing. Instead, Gil sighs and stands up, pushing himself up and scraping the chair over the floor as he does. Cade winces audibly, eyes narrowing as the sound travels right through him and turns his skin clammy for a second.   
  
"Okay, come on. What's eating you?" Gil asks, half-turning back to Cade when he hears him wince.   
  
Cade almost tells him, but he hesitates. Kadara flashes across his mind in grimy snapshots, laced with neon. The more he dwells on it, the colours swell and pop in a mirage that turns his stomach. He can't focus on it, his skin itches when he talks about it, and it's all because he knows Reyes has a plan that's so far out of their reach, it's become a warning sign on the horizon.  
  
But Gil doesn't know the half of it. Gil just knows he's sitting here with him, being an asshole for no discernible reason.  
  
Cade feels guilty about that, but that's nothing new. He rubs his jaw, trying to relieve the tension building up with the amount of teeth-clenching he's doing.   
  
Deciding on an answer, Cade shifts in his seat and tries to relax, stretching his hands away from him across the table.  
  
"I hate Kadara." he says, golden eyes flickering around the galley to find something to focus on. He can feel the static-y edge on his skin as his concentration wanes further.   
  
Gil snorts, pouring two mugs of coffee. "You hated Voeld. And Havarl."   
  
Cade grins wryly, momentarily distracted. "Don't forget Eos."   
  
Setting the pot down, Gil returns to the table with both coffee mugs and passes one to Cade, who takes it with a murmur of thanks.  
  
"You pretty much just... hate Heleus, you know that?" Gil fixes Cade with a pointed look, sitting back down across from him. Cade drums his fingers on the metallic mug, feeling the heat flooding through his hands when he holds his fingerpads to the surface for too long.  
  
He hates Heleus. Cade admits that. He hates being here. He hates how he got here. More than that, Cade hates not knowing.   
  
It's been months.   
  
_Months_. And he's just as much in the dark as he was when he woke up.   
  
"Yeah. I hate Heleus." Cade admits, grin fading into a grim line as he speaks. He doesn't elaborate. There's far too much to explain, and Gil doesn't need to be bogged down with problems that don't matter to him.   
  
Gil takes Cade's silence as an end to this particular conversation. He gathers up the cards on the table, the game forgotten, and sets them neatly into a deck to the side. Cade can tell he's stalling, trying to drag something else out of him.   
  
"Okay. I'm worried." Cade says it like he's spitting glass, lips quirked in disdain for the words he's speaking. Gil looks at him, and Cade's glad to see it's not a pitiful glance either. He appreciates that.  
  
"About...?" Gil motions for Cade to continue, and Cade sits up, exhaling sharply.   
  
"Something's going to happen on Kadara. Attrition can only go on for so long until something gives, yeah?"   
  
Gil nods, slowly, eyes narrowing as he pieces Cade's words together.   
  
"Case of two gear cogs in the wrong direction?" Gil clarifies.   
  
"Yeah. Opposite forces." Cade takes a sip of his coffee, the liquid burning, "And the Initiative is the convenient monkey wrench."   
  
Gil snickers, and even Cade cracks a smirk at that.  
  
"Poetic, but... I suppose it makes a certain kind of sense." Gil admits then, scratching idly at a mark on his coffee mug. "And _you_ would know."   
  
Cade doesn't miss that pointed statement. He frowns, fixing Gil with a glare. Gil just rolls his eyes and sits back casually, entirely at ease.  
  
"Ryder's worried too." Gil tells him, "He's dropped by engineering a few times - wanted me to look at that transmitter you guys found."   
  
Cade listens intently. He isn't going to deny that it stings a little to hear Scott would rather go to Gil with his concerns, but the rational part of him knows why Scott would do that. It's about Reyes.  
  
"Reyes." Cade says quietly, eyes still fixed on Gil, now with a raw intensity that almost makes Gil look away.   
  
"Can you blame him?" Gil responds easily with a half-hearted shrug. The way he's talking, it's almost accusatory. _Almost_. Cade narrows his eyes, and he's stopped drumming his fingers on the coffee mug. He's completely still as he assesses the situation, and the air turns brittle around him.  
  
"I don't think it's... what you think it is." Cade says, slowly, uncertain. Gil raises both eyebrows, clearly waiting for more of an explanation.  
  
"I've worked with Reyes." Cade adds, " _Before_. Before I knew Scott. And he was gone by the time Scott ever showed up. And before you ask: no. There wasn't anything with us - it was just work."   
  
Gil looks a little more convinced, so Cade plays his advantage.  
  
"And I'm telling you, Reyes hasn't changed a bit. He wants the Port, and we're practically giving him a key. Scott -- the Initiative -- we're all just a another step on the ladder to him."   
  
A heavy beat of silence fills the room.   
  
Gil looks sheepish, and Cade doesn't doubt for a moment that these kind of politics are the kind he'd rather not know about. A life of independence will do that to you, Cade supposes, but looking the other way only makes it easier for someone to land a bullet in your back.   
  
"Then you'd better tell Ryder." Gil mumbles, voice weary.   
  
"I can't." Cade shakes his head abruptly, sitting back. Gil just frowns at him, sighing.  
  
"If Scott knows, that makes him a problem for both Reyes and Sloane. More than he already is -- and Jesus, Gil, I've seen the worst of places like Kadara and there's no way in this fucking _galaxy_ that I'm putting Scott in more danger."    
  
Cade didn't quite mean to go that far. He swallows, throat suddenly dry, and he can feel his heart pounding. His ire throbs in his ears, blood rushing as his anger surges.   
  
Gil doesn't reply straight away, and it makes Cade feel even more on edge. He's exposing a nerve here, something deeply personal, and the longer he leaves it, the more his anxiety starts to crowd him with incessant thoughts of regret.   
  
He's pulled back to reality when he feels a rough hand on his wrist. Looking down, Cade finds Gil's fingers locked around his wrist, squeezing gently.   
  
"Shit, Cade." Gil says when Cade finally looks at him, "I don't do this. I don't... get attached to people. But you're my friend, for some unholy reason, and so is Ryder. I can't fix this for either of you - we're way out of my skillset here, but for God's sake, don't do anything _stupid_."  
  
A brief pause. Then Gil finally cracks his usual half-smile.   
  
"I swear, I'll kick both your arses."   
  


* * *

  
_Left, right, side-step, block, right, left--_  
  
Cade switches his stance easily, falling back into his rhythm as he lands blow after blow on the punch bag he and Liam managed to dig out from storage. The Tempest is running quiet, most of the crew are asleep, and Cade's somehow managed to find himself awake at 0300 for the fifth night in a row.   
  
He doesn't know whether it's the lack of sleep or the stifling thoughts of Kadara that are making him unbearable lately, but whatever it is, taking it out on this punch bag seems to be working. At the very least, it's become something of a routine. A bit of normality that Cade can try and keep hold of.  
  
 _Uppercut, block, switch, jab--_  
  
Tonight, Cade's been here for a while. He's not sure how long, exactly, but long enough to work up a solid rhythm, and his arms are starting to ache. His knuckles would be red-raw if he hadn't bandaged them up - something he'd remembered to do after the first few nights of this.  
  
It's better than lying in his bunk and listening to the mess of his thoughts, anyway.  
  
Better than replaying his conversation with Gil, which has been on his mind all day. Even now, it's lingering on the edges of his consciousness, words slipping past every so often. It's a build-up, each word piling on the last to form a mangled mess in his own voice, and every punch he delivers is like a jolt to the system, pushing everything out of joint with a force Cade can't resist.  
  
In the end, it grows too loud. Cade calls on something louder, feeling the cool snap of biotics over his hot skin. He watches as the white curls blue around his fist, and the energy pulls, willing him to drive his arm into the punch bag with a guttural shout. He hears the snap of the chain, followed by the heavy thud of the bag hitting the floor a few feet away, and in an instant, the fight is gone from him.  
  
"Be careful." those words sound in Scott's voice, and Cade looks up sharply to find the source. Scott approaches him, and Cade finds himself rooted to the spot, the full force of Gil's words hitting him like ice water.  
  
"Hey, Scott. I- uh... why aren't you asleep?" Cade manages enough coherence for his question, and Scott steps close enough for Cade to see red-rimmed eyes. He immediately snaps out of his stupour, feet taking him the rest of the way to Scott with a rare urgency.  
  
"What's wrong?" Cade reaches out for him, and Scott relaxes at his touch. He doesn't say anything for a moment, dropping his gaze to the floor. Cade squeezes Scott's arm, impatient, too worried to wait.  
  
"It's stupid, but, uh, bad dream." Scott says, eventually, voice strained. He looks up at Cade with a look that he can't place. It's distant, as though he's still recalling the remnants of his dream.  
  
"It's not stupid." Cade tries to reassure him, pulling him closer as gently as he can, and Scott finally moves to meet him the rest of the way. Cade feels immediately better when Scott's arms find their way around his waist, but he sets the thought aside - it's Scott who needs him right now.  
  
"You-- it was..." Scott stumbles over his words, thick with sleep and a sadness Cade hates to hear, "You died. But it wasn't-- you just didn't come back. I was here. Alone."  
  
Cade doesn't dwell on the fact he's had that exact nightmare too many times lately, and it's Scott who isn't there.   
  
"I'm here." Cade tells him, "Neither of us are going anywhere."  
  
Scott nods, and manages a thin smile. His bright blue eyes are dull, the smile not reaching further than the slight quirk of his lips. Cade tries to give him a reassuring smile in return, but it's marred by his own thoughts, and he quickly hides it by pressing a fleeting kiss to Scott's brow instead. Scott sighs, leaning into his touch, and a hesitant question slips his lips.  
  
"Can you stay with me?"   
  
Cade leans back to look at Scott. He's exhausted. Even now, Cade can feel the way Scott's unsteady on his feet, relying heavily on Cade to keep him standing.   
  
He doesn't know why he's nervous. Cade hazards a guess that it's because they're still figuring things out, still pulling pieces of their old relationship together, trying to build a foundation for a new one. They're still a work in progress, deep down, even if the surface seems patched up.  
  
But to see Scott like this... well, it hurts.   
  
God, Scott could ask him to move mountains and he wouldn't think twice. Anything. Anything that made it easier on Scott, Cade would try his best to do.  
  
"Yeah."   
  
Scott brightens, if only a little, but it's plenty enough for now. Cade lets Scott move out of his hold and take his hand, leading him out of the shuttle bay and down to the Pathfinder's Quarters.   
  
The room is dark when they step in, lit up only by a vague constellation on the night-display. It's soothing, Cade notices, and he immediately feels the last shreds of anxiety leaving his shoulders as the soft light drifts over him instead. As much as he wants to stand there and take it in, he can feel Scott tugging on his hand, so Cade follows him over to the bed. Scott lets his hand go and curls back up in his usual place, leaving enough room for Cade.  
  
"Jesus, this bed is actually comfy." Cade sits down to toe his sneakers off, and he hears Scott's quiet chuckle behind him.  
  
"What, bunks don't meet your standards?" he quips, but he stifles a yawn that follows soon after.   
  
"Probably got too used to my cryopod." Cade snorts. He hesitates at the hem of his shirt.  
  
"Okay, weird question, but do you mind if I-"   
  
Scott just looks at him, almost incredulous, but his smile gives away his amusement.  
  
"You're really asking me if I mind if you take your shirt off?"   
  
"Y-yeah. Guess I am."   
  
Cade can feel his ears burning, but he smiles, despite himself. Seeing Scott grinning given the way he was looking ten minutes ago is, at least, an improvement, and Cade's glad to see it.  
  
"I've seen you in _way_ less."   
  
"That... is a fair point." Cade concludes with a sigh, and he yanks his shirt off, dumping it next to his sneakers before he lies down, almost sinking into the mattress with a barely suppressed sigh of contentment. _Way better than the bunks._ Scott shifts next to him, and Cade can't quite see in the darkness of the room but he can feel Scott sliding an arm over his waist, and Cade reciprocates without thinking by lifting his arm up so Scott can rest his head on his shoulder. It's like falling into old routine, and Cade would call it familiar if he wasn't staring out of the viewport at all these stars he doesn't know.  
  
Tracing idle shapes on Scott's back, Cade just waits for his breathing to even out. He wants to make sure Scott gets some sleep tonight, even if he doesn't for himself.   
  
"Thank you." Scott mumbles sleepily, breath warm over Cade's skin.   
  
"You don't have to thank me." Cade replies softly, voice barely audible. He's almost afraid to speak in such a vast room, even if the darkness makes it feel smaller.  
  
"I know." Scott says then, and Cade can feel him smiling against his shoulder.   
  
_You're the one giving me a home in all this_ , Cade thinks, but he says nothing, and his smile goes unseen except by the cold and distant stars outside.


	40. Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait for this chapter!! It was taking forever to come together, but it got there eventually.

Cade should have seen this coming.  
  
He tugs at the chains twisted around his wrists, wincing when they bite into his skin at the motion. Stifling a groan, Cade tries to make sense of his surroundings, bleary-eyed and woozy. Every time he turns his head, a roll of nausea hits him and he has to force his eyes shut before he can take anything in.   
  
_How did I get here?_   
  
Cade tries to sit upright, feeling himself slumping against something cold and hard behind him. He nudges the surface with his shoulder, feeling the shallow ring petering out from the impact. Metal panelling. A prefab? He forces his eyes open again, sharp pinpricks of light flooding in, and the stench of sulphur sitting in the muggy air at least confirms he's still on Kadara. That's something.  
  
"You're awake."   
  
Caught off-guard by the voice, Cade loses his focus on his surroundings and hones in on a figure looming nearby. He tries to narrow his eyes, his vision swimming before him, but it only makes it worse and he stops, eyes fluttering shut as he lets his head fall back against the cold metal.  
  
"Where-" he's about to speak, but his voice cracks and falters and he can taste blood on his teeth when he swallows.   
  
"Don't worry, Shepard." Cade knows that voice. The accent is rich, and those words are laced with a special brand of nonchalance that gets a man into too many places.  
  
"Reyes."   
  
Cade cracks his eyes open, feeling colder than ever. He finally manages to separate Reyes from the blur of the room. Why is he here? Did he find him? Cade shifts back up against the wall, sitting upright instead of slumping over so he can fix Reyes with a glare.  
  
"Explain. _Now_." he orders, hands clenching behind his back where they remain bound. Reyes smiles, slow and deadly, and takes a step closer to Cade. His figure blocks out the worst of Kadara's weak sun, landing Cade in momentary respite from the sunglare, but it makes the room far more visible and Cade makes the mistake of looking.  
  
It's a holding cell. Why does Reyes need a holding cell? Cade makes a cursory sweep of the floor, but his eyes land on dark red splotches painting their way up onto the wall where a bullethole marks someone's untimely death. Cade looks further, finding a worktop littered with knives and what he can only presume to be tasers, and the pieces start settling into place. Reyes supplies information. That requires extracting said information in the first place, and knowing Reyes, this is all means to that end.  
  
"That explains the chains." Cade murmurs, still hoarse, but he swallows audibly this time. Reyes still hasn't said a word, and Cade is growing impatient. He tugs pointedly at the chains, looking up at Reyes.  
  
"Impatient." Reyes says cooly, crouching down to eye level. "As ever, Shepard. As ever."  
  
Cade just huffs, barely stifling a growl of frustration. He kicks his legs, finding them free from restraint, but undeniably sore. He winces, and Reyes almost looks apologetic.  
  
"You were a very difficult mark." is all he says, before Cade finally snaps.  
  
"What the _fuck_ am I doing here?!" Cade hisses, and then the icy afterthought follows. "Where's Scott? Did you--"  
  
"Ah, no, no. He is entirely unharmed, and probably looking for you." Reyes gestures nonchalantly with his hand, as if to say he couldn't care less.   
  
"Is that why I'm here?" Cade pushes, flaring up with anger at the thought of Scott walking right into one of Reyes' plans. Reyes wouldn't do that to him, would he? Surely not. They've worked together enough for Reyes to understand that Cade wouldn't let such a thing go by unnoticed. Unless that was the plan--  
  
"Relax, Shepard. It's not your Pathfinder I'm concerned about." Reyes tells him quietly, those bright eyes of his never once faltering in their intensity. Cade forces himself to look away, past Reyes and to the bullethole marking the wall across from them.  
  
"If it's me you're worried about, then how come I didn't join that poor bastard?" Cade nods in the direction he's looking. Reyes follows the gesture and glances back over his shoulder for a moment.  
  
"Because that poor bastard wasn't a friend." Reyes sighs, looking back. He doesn't look at Cade this time, and Cade is unnerved by the sombre mood falling over the man in that instant. Neither of them speak for a second. Reyes moves quickly, and Cade catches a glint of metal from Reyes' hand that has him holding his breath until he feels the weight of the chains falling from his wrists. Reyes sits back and slides the knife back into his boot, eyes back on Cade again.  
  
"You're here because I need your help." Reyes says simply after Cade frees his hands from the chains, rubbing his wrists to soothe the irritated skin.  
  
"And what, pray tell, could I _possibly_ fucking help you with?" Cade grumbles, wound up and impatient, and desperately wanting to get back to the Tempest. To safety.  
  
"You're a smart man. You know what I'm trying to do." Reyes isn't asking, he's telling, and Cade knows it. He tugs his lower lip between his teeth for a second, exhaling sharply through his nose as he does.  
  
"I'm not going to help you, Reyes. I can't. Whatever's between you and Sloane -- and yes, it is fucking obvious -- is just that."   
  
It's not the answer Reyes wants. Cade sees the flash of disappointment cross his face, but he quickly brings his mask back into play.  
  
"You don't even know what your share is." Reyes throws down his argument, but he seems to know it's a losing battle as soon as he speaks. His shoulders slump, confidence gone and replaced now with a hunched figure of a boy Cade used to know, huddled behind supply crates as they waited for their opportunity to strike.  
  
"I don't need to, Reyes." Cade shuts him down, but his words are quiet and meant for a friend instead of an adversary, "I can't help you. I'm sorry."  
  
Reyes nods, chewing the inside of his cheek. Cade watches the way his face hollows, and his eyes grow dark with doubt. It's unlike him to look so uncertain, and Cade figures the metaphorical hound at his heels isn't letting up anytime soon.  
  
"Look," Cade sighs, unease settling in his gut the more he thinks about it, "I can't help, but... I know you want Sco-- the Pathfinder on your side. It makes sense."   
  
Reyes is listening intently, and Cade sits up, moving slowly. His joints ache, and he doesn't need to make them any worse. When he settles, he fixes Reyes with a glance again and continues.  
  
"I can't promise he'll see things the way you want him to. And I _won't_ lie to him, so don't even think about asking." Cade tells him firmly, "But don't count him out. He's... he knows what it takes to survive in a place like this, as well as you and I do. He respects that."  
  
Reyes looks a little surprised for a moment, on alert far more now than he was thirty seconds ago, and his lips quirk into the smallest of smiles.   
  
"Even the Pathfinder gets his hands dirty. That's comforting." Reyes remarks smoothly, but he gets to his feet with a low chuckle, dusting himself off before offering a hand to Cade.  
  
"Maybe. But _don't_ push him." Cade takes the offer, clasping Reyes' hand with his own to pull himself up. His shoulders burn from having his hands bound, but he shakes it off with a heavy sigh and a glance in Reyes direction as he drops his hand.  
  
Reyes looks sincere for the first time since they've met on Kadara, and it takes Cade off guard when he talks.   
  
"You care about him. I may be a shady bastard, but I'm not a heartless one, Shepard." 

* * *

  
"SAM, team meeting. Tell everybody to get to the comms deck." Scott sighs, scowling down at the datapad in his hands. It's relaying lines of information, hacked feeds running in from Kadara Port, and none of it is spelling out a situation that Scott wants to deal with.   
  
Aside from the painfully obvious racketeering, there's... well, if there were any kind of reputable justice system, half of Kadara would be looking at hefty sentences.   
  
"Yes, Pathfinder." SAM confirms Scott's order, and Scott finally sets the datapad down and leans back to look over all of his vidscreens, banked up on the wall above his desk. He's been working on this for weeks, ever since they first heard about the port. Integrating feeds was part of his skillset back on Earth, rarely exploited until he did his stint on Omega. Any good marketplace is a goldmine for information, and Kadara has a very busy one.  
  
Scott casts a final glance over his screens before he swipes the display into standby and makes to leave his quarters, muttering an order for SAM to lock the door behind him. Stepping out into the walkway, Scott sucks in a breath of cool air, and heads up the ladder so he can get to the comm deck.   
  
When he arrives, he finds Cora already there - unsurprisingly - along with Vetra. They murmur a greeting Scott's way, and he nods to both of them as he makes his way around the table to the main console.   
  
"Is everything okay, Ryder?" Cora asks when the chatter between her and Vetra subsides, and Scott looks up. Cora's been a voice of reason for the team lately, and Scott's come to appreciate her a lot -- more so when she goes out of her way to spend time with him. When Scott asked her why she did that, she just smiled and said he was quiet. He took it as a good thing, regardless. Cora's definitely somebody he'd call a friend now, though, and Scott's grateful for that.  
  
"Yeah. Just wanted to go over the situation on Kadara. It's a mess." Scott sighs, leaning a hip against the table while he pulls up holos absently. He's being entirely honest, too. Kadara _is_ a mess, inside and out. Even the monoliths proved troublesome to activate, and Scott honestly should have seen the vault being just as bad, but he'd been a little too optimistic. The vault had been one giant clusterfuck, and they'd eventually made it out after three ridiculous squad disputes and a near-death experience with a Remnant destroyer. Still, all's well that ends well, Scott thinks, and he files the experience away as a sorely-needed learning curve.  
  
"It's an acquired taste, Ryder." Vetra hums, and Scott can almost hear the laughter bubbling up.   
  
"Oh, I know. God, Omega was a _shithole_." Scott snorts, shifting the holo display to a three-dimensional map of the Badlands that covers the table.   
  
"Omega, huh?" Vetra's faceplates shift into an expression that Scott would label as curious.   
  
"It was a holiday compared to this." Scott says wryly, a half-smile forming as he speaks. He looks over at the ramp to the comms deck when he hears footsteps, and Liam appears with Drack and Jaal in tow. Scott does a headcount, and is about to send out another call for Peebee and Cade when Peebee shows up, loudly, and takes her spot at the table with boundless enthusiasm for something. Scott's kind of afraid to ask.  
  
Cade still isn't here. Scott doesn't want to waste any more time, though, so he settles for filling Cade in on the information later, and gets to explaining the situation as best as he can.  
  
"Pathfinder, I cannot locate Shepard." SAM interrupts, and Scott trails off mid-sentence. He spares a glance around the table, finding everybody looking at him expectantly, as if he'd know.   
  
"Engineering?" Scott suggests, but a cold knot forms in his gut when SAM doesn't respond immediately.  
  
"No, Pathfinder. He is not on the ship."   
  
That's... new. Scott swallows, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. His mind is racing before he can even start to think. Sure, he hasn't seen Cade for a few hours - not since they woke up this morning - but that's not unusual. Cade's the type to hide away and get stuck into work, and Scott had plenty of his own work to do. Hell, it's not even late. And Cade would have told him if he was going anywhere, right?  
  
"He's on Kadara, then." Scott says, as if it makes complete sense. He ignores the fact that it doesn't. Why is he on Kadara? Why is he on Kadara, _alone?_  
  
"That would be the logical assumption, Pathfinder. I am running a diagnostic on his implants."  
  
"Why?" Scott asks, a little too quickly.  
  
"What? Shepard would kick arse if they tried to pull anything on him." Liam snorts, almost incredulously, from across the table. Drack rumbles an agreement, but Cora looks unconvinced.  
  
"I don't know, he could be in trouble." Cora voices, a thin edge of concern to her tone. It's the stone that starts a landslide, though, as Peebee and Vetra both join in with their thoughts. The entire crew is caught up in quiet debate around the table, leaving Scott in silence. And Scott wishes Cora hadn't said that, because now he's thinking of every possible scenario-  
  
SAM doesn't speak to the crew this time, instead using his private link to Scott.  
  
"Scott, I am detecting flunitra-" SAM is about to explain, but Scott groans.  
  
"SAM, just... plain English." he sighs under his breath, aware of the growing debate going around the table.   
  
"It appears he has been drugged, Scott."   
  
_What?_ Scott blinks, opening his mouth to speak, but SAM interrupts him.  
  
"Judging by the concentration of the substance, it was several hours ago."   
  
Scott exhales sharply, bracing himself on the table. His mind is spinning, gut knotted in fear, and his heart is pounding. He tries to make sense of what he's thinking, but it's moving too fast, thoughts falling through fingers like smoke.  
  
It's then that the comm line rings, casting everybody into silence as they watch the flashing light of the console. Scott stares at it for a second before he realizes everybody's waiting, and he opens the call.  
  
Sloane.  
  
"Ryder." her greeting is as blunt as ever, but Scott's listening. "I have something for you. Come to the Port.  
  
The call ends as soon as it had started, and Scott is left reeling.


	41. Allegiance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to snag some commission slots from the awesome xandra for my Zero Hour boys and you can find them right over [here!](http://commandcrshepard.tumblr.com/post/165111978563/commandcrshepard-xandrassketchbook-for) Do check it out, because it's the most accurate and wonderfully done piece of the boys and I love it wholeheartedly <3
> 
> Working in Scott's POV is surprisingly harder than I thought! Anyway, here we go with another chapter. I hope it's a fun one! Also, just to clarfiy, this is Scott's POV so any particular opinions towards characters involved are Scott's own ;)

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.  
  
Scott can't shake the feeling of total unease that settles over his shoulders as he walks onto the Port, Drack and Cora in tow. He'd been trying to reach Cade's omnitool frequency for the last two hours, each dead connection tone sparking up another wave of anxiety. After a while, it had been Cora who appeared at the doors to the Pathfinder's quarters, sympathetic, but determined that they had to keep moving. Sloane wasn't somebody they wanted to keep waiting.  
  
Still, Scott's hands are shaking. He can't hide that nearly as well as he thinks. Cora walks close to him, trying to reassure in her own way, and Scott's grateful that she's the voice of reason in all this.  
  
"Navpoint is for the HQ." Cora says calmly, sparing a casual glance around the marketplace as they walk. Drack lumbers behind, and Scott feels marginally better for having a Krogan at his back, given the way half the marketplace seem to be watching him with shrewd, greedy stares. He rolls his shoulders and tries to walk taller.  
  
Setting his sights dead ahead, Scott lets himself wander in his own thoughts while they make their way to the Outcast HQ. He doesn't know how to feel. Part of him is angry, irrationally so, that Cade would even set foot on the Port without telling anyone. Didn't Cade trust him? Scott doesn't want to think too much on that. It makes him feel worse. And then there's SAM's analysis - how the hell does _Commander Shepard_ get drugged? It doesn't make sense. They'd need more than one person to take him out, for sure, and if such a commotion had been going down on Kadara, SAM would have informed them. Right?  
  
_Calm down._  
  
Scott can feel his heart racing, and his breathing turns sharp. He tries to shake it off, rubbing lamely at his forearm, but it does nothing. His throat is bone dry when he swallows, and all Scott wants is to know he's okay.  
  
"Ryder?" Cora's voice breaks his line of thought, and Scott looks at her. She looks like she's waiting for an answer, but Scott never caught the question.  
  
"Hm?"  
  
Cora sighs gently, and nods in the direction of the doors they're approaching. It's the Outcast HQ, and Scott doesn't have a clue what's waiting for him behind those steel gates.  
  
Does Sloane have an involvement in this? Scott wants to think that she does, but his gut tells him otherwise. There's no reason Sloane would target Cade. Hell, Scott doesn't think they've even met face to face. It doesn't add up, but Scott can't figure out any other sequence of logic that would grant him anything closer to an answer.  
  
"Alright. I'll go, you two wait outside." Scott distracts himself with the airs of command for a second, steps faltering slightly as he turns to talk to Cora and Drack. Cora looks like she wants to argue, but keeps quiet, and simply nods. Drack grumbles next to her, making to lean against the wall with folded arms and a steely glare.  
  
"Don't get into trouble, kid." he says, and Scott almost manages a smile before he steps through the doors.  
  
The air here is somehow stuffier than outside. Scott spares a glance around the walkway, finding clogged up fans and a ventilation system in disrepair. He grimaces, feeling the sticky heat at his neck a few short seconds later. Still, he keeps walking, hands curling and uncurling at his sides. He's entirely on edge, even more so now that he's alone with the rattle and hum of rickety generators around him, and he barely remembers what he's even here for.  
  
The fact that he's alone is... unnerving. Scott remembers Sloane's guards milling around the place in an ugly show of authority, and there's nobody here. That's odd. Frowning, Scott pulls himself together long enough to make his way down to Sloane's usual spot. Sure enough, she's sitting in her ramshackle throne, face like thunder.  
  
"Where is everybody?" Scott asks without thinking, nerves getting the better of him. Sloane just looks up at him, slowly and with her usual brand of unwavering intensity.  
  
"I told them to get out of my sight." she says simply. Scott blinks, a little surprised, but he schools his expression back to neutrality as quickly as he can.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Sloane sits up with a growl, hands braced on her knees as she fixes Scott with a glare.  
  
"The Charlatan used my own people to beat up Kaetus." she tells him, "He's alive. Barely."  
  
Kaetus? Scott thinks over the name, and settles on the image of a grim turian. The one he usually sees lingering by the door. The one who is decidedly not there today.  
  
It's a fleeting thought, but Scott wonders if Cade's disappearance is the Charlatan's handiwork too.  
  
"The Charlatan's using Kaetus to put you on edge." Scott says numbly, not quite meaning it to Sloane, but he realizes she's the only one there to hear it.  
  
"I _know_ that." Sloane snaps, shaking her head. "I didn't call you here for a pity party."  
  
Scott huffs, folding his arms tight across his chest. His nerves are subsiding, and the pretense of the Pathfinder is slipping easily into place. It's good enough for now.  
  
"No, you called me here because you said you had something. What is it?"  
  
Sloane looks affronted for a moment, but she quickly moves on.  
  
"The Charlatan left a note on Kaetus' body. He wants to 'settle things' between us. Meeting spot is in Draullir."  
  
Scott frowns. That's a trap. That is _definitely_ a trap. Why is she even considering it? Scott wants to laugh, to tell her it's a waste of time, but something holds him back. If he was in her place, and if it was Cade...  
  
He'd go.  
  
"The Charlatan's had plenty of time to act. Why make a move now?" Scott sighs, rubbing at his jaw. His mind is racing with every kind of possibility, but slowly, surely, the links start to appear. Cade's disappearance isn't a coincidence. Someone wanted him out of the way. Someone who knows Cade is linked to the Pathfinder. Someone who has a deep, underground investment in Kadara Port.  
  
The Charlatan's been hiding in plain sight all this time.  
  
"I ignored the Collective for too long." Sloane speaks again, "I thought they were just another ragtag group of upstarts. But now they're bold, and dangerous - what happened to Kaetus is on me. I've got to end this before it gets worse."  
  
Scott isn't sold on Sloane's prerogative. Quite frankly, he never has been. It's one thing to sit on a throne that you plucked from the native Angara in a show of force against the Kett, and it's another thing entirely to act like you own it. And Scott knows how much Sloane has had a hand in the rackets of the Port; the drug exploits, the protection fees, the brutal regime she's imposed above the law in lawless place. To be on Kadara now, and to see how humanity fares under such a rule is aggravating. To be a Pathfinder, and see this, a potential future for settlement being abused to such an extent? It's reason enough for Scott to draw the line.  
  
"You with me?" Sloane brings Scott back to her point. Scott considers his options carefully, but he knows his allegiance has never been with Sloane. Still, if she wants to play the exploitation game, along with this Charlatan, Scott can play it just as well.  
  
So he smiles, sharper than a knife-point, and fixes Sloane with a marksman's eye.  
  
"I'll watch your back."  
  
Sloane takes it for face-value, and delivers the navpoint with a mumbled statement that she'll go ahead. Scott takes it as his cue to leave, and he makes his way out of the stuffy chamber with a little more confidence than he had when he walked in.  
  
Stepping back out into Kadara's scorching daylight, he finds Cora and Drack... _not_ where he left them. Cora's speaking into her omnitool, Drack looming over her as if to get closer to the conversation. Scott frowns, hurrying his pace to reach them faster, but Cora spots him before he gets there.  
  
"Ryder, it's Shepard." she says bluntly, and Scott freezes in place. His blood runs cold, and he resists the urge to snap when Cora takes too long to speak. "He's back on the Tempest."  
  
Scott barely lets the words sink in before he's tearing through the marketplace, feet carrying him as fast as he can go. He somehow manages to avoid knocking anyone down, skirting around crates of smuggled supplies and leaping over gaps in the floor grates where some poor bastard is trying to run maintenance.  
  
His lungs are burning by the time he reaches the docks, but he hauls himself up the stairs two at a time and punches in the access code to the final gate. It takes too long to open, and he's pacing for what seems like an age before the metal screeches open, torturously slow.  
  
The cool air of the Tempest rolls over his damp, sweaty skin as he finally gets inside. He doesn't spare a greeting to the bridge crew, mind racing as he tries to figure out where Cade would be. Medbay? He rushes through the doors and descends the ladder, finally slowing down a little as he approaches the medbay doors. It's there that he stops, breathing hard, hot air fogging on the cold metal door in front of him. He takes a few seconds to calm down, not wanting to go barging in, but he can't wait any longer and swipes the access console.  
  
Sure enough, Cade's there. And he looks... _terrible_. Scott's stomach lurches at the sight of bruises on his jaw, the way he's sitting with shoulders hunched, an arm hugging his ribs with a white-knuckle grip.  
  
"Cade..." Scott murmurs, finding his way to Cade without a second thought. Cade looks at him, golden eyes dull and ringed with black exhaustion. This isn't right. Scott reaches for Cade's free hand, but Cade winces when Scott's fingers close around his wrist and Scott glances down, finding a shallow red gouge all the way around. They'd bound him too? Scott's anger surges, and he doesn't realize his hands are shaking again until Cade takes Scott's hand in his own, squeezing gently, pulling Scott's attention back to him.  
  
"It's okay." Cade murmurs, quietly, just loud enough for Scott to hear. Cade looks over Scott's shoulder, and Scott is suddenly reminded that they aren't alone. Lexi's working with her back to them, pottering about with a datapad and unlocking the med-cabinet. Scott turns back, exhaling sharply, so desperately wanting to be furious with whoever's done this, but Cade keeps rubbing his thumb over Scott's knuckles in familiar, repetitive motions, and it makes the anger ebb away.  
  
Why the hell is Cade trying to comfort him? Shouldn't it be the other way around? He's the one who's been through what looks like hell and back today. Scott stifles a complaint, resting his forehead on Cade's shoulder instead.  
  
"Fortunately for you, it's only surface damage- Oh! Ryder!" Lexi's voice draws closer, and she interrupts herself with her own surprise. Scott looks over his shoulder, suddenly not caring how obvious they're being right now. Hell, Lexi's probably figured it out. He lets it go, managing a weak smile in Lexi's direction.  
  
Sighing, Lexi continues. "It's all surface damage. Your cybernetics seem intact, but I've asked SAM to monitor them. For now, you need rest."  
  
Cade huffs, and Scott knows that's not a diagnosis he likes. Cade's restless at the best of times. Still, Scott doesn't want to push it; Cade's exhausted, he's been running patrols and ground teams with every new outpost Scott pulls together. By now, Prodromos has a civilian military to be proud of, but it's not just him. The entire crew is heading for a crash if they can't catch a break.  
  
"Yeah. Alright." Cade relents, even if his grim expression tells another story. Lexi lets a smile break her professional visage for a moment, and Scott sees nothing but genuine warmth behind her expression. He feels a little embarrassed for showing up the way he did, but Cade's safe, and that's all that matters to him right now.  
  


* * *

  
Cade's quiet. Scott knows something's wrong. They sit across from each other in the shuttle, armed and armoured, silence filling the space between them while Cora and Liam pilot the vehicle, vague chatter rolling around the main cabin.  
  
"You know who the Charlatan is, don't you?" Cade asks, out of the blue, and his words are barely audible. Scott catches them carefully, regarding Cade with a look that's far more trusting than it is skeptical, and he means it to be.  
  
"I know." Scott confirms quietly, nodding. Cade sighs, rubbing at his eyes with a gloved hand. He sits up then, and flashes a smile Scott's way.  
  
"Of course you do." he says, "They underestimated you."  
  
Scott is slow to smile back, but he does, eventually.  
  
"They always do."  
  


* * *

  
The first gunshot, Scott had expected. He'd seen it the moment they'd walked into Draullir.  
  
Scott's a sniper, and he knows the way they work - the sharpshooter is tucked away in the shadows, nothing to give him away save for the deliberate, and all too predictable motions of the Charlatan.  
  
Cade doesn't bother stepping into the mess, choosing to take a seat on a nearby rock, casual nonchalance written all over him in a way that pisses Sloane off something bad. Scott takes a quiet satisfaction from the idea, but he himself stands next to Sloane and plays his part, regardless.  
  
"I'm here for the Charlatan, not some third-rate smuggler." Sloane had said, sneered, and looked away. Scott counts his steps as he moves away from Sloane, leaving her alone on her marked grave. He's out of the firing line, and he meets Reyes' glare with one of his own.  
  
"You're looking at him."  
  
Reyes balks for a second, but he recovers. Scott makes a point of glancing over Reyes' shoulder to where he knows the sniper is waiting, and grants Reyes a careful smile when the smuggler's eyes widen, just slightly, just enough to show his cards.  
  
And it's just enough for Reyes to slip, to make a seamless gesture behind his back that preludes the crack of a bullet through the air to where it meets its mark. Sloane lets out an ugly gasp, face contorted in anger and disbelief for a moment before she falls.  
  
"You're a smart man, Ryder." is all Reyes says before Scott lunges for him, all that suppressed anger spilling out in brutal edges, sharp enough to cut Reyes to the bone if Scott wants to. Instead, he curls a hand in Reyes' jacket and yanks him close with a growl.  
  
"Next time you want something from me, you ask _me_." Scott snarls, "You do _not_ touch him."  
  
Reyes swallows audibly, but has enough sense to agree to Scott's pointed suggestion with a lame nod. Scott is reluctant to let him go so easily, but he's nothing if not a reasonable man, so he shoves him back and releases him.  
  
The threat remains hanging in the air between them, though, and Scott takes pride in that.  
  
"I'll be in Tartarus. We can talk about your outpost when you have time." Reyes is still pushing, but Scott allows this one, at least. The Initiative needs Kadara. And at least now, he knows Reyes isn't likely to cross him again.  
  
"Get out of here before you get caught." Scott sighs, and he takes a step back. Reyes wastes no time in moving out of Scott's range, but he pauses as he passes Cade, still on his rock.  
  
"You know how to pick them, Shepard." Reyes snorts, and Cade just grins up at him.  
  
"Next time, I'd skip the chains." Cade says, "There's only one person I like being tied up by."  
  
Reyes just scoffs, looking quickly over at Scott before giving Cade a shove to the shoulder when he passes and finally leaves the cave. Scott glowers at Reyes' disappearing back until he's gone from sight, and his pretense comes crashing down in bits. He groans, the weight of his decision piling down on him now that the thread has been cut, and he drives a boot into the dirt at his feet, watching the dust rise up.  
  
As it settles, Scott hears footsteps behind him. He relaxes when he feels Cade's hand on his shoulder, gently pulling him to face him.  
  
"Scott?" Cade sighs, watching as Scott slumps back slightly against the cave wall. Scott just smiles thinly up at him, not quite sure what to say. It's... a relief to have this over with, but there's a quiet fear sitting in his chest when he thinks of what happened to Cade. What if he gets hurt again? It's on him, Scott knows. It's only because he's the Pathfinder. It's that link that gets him into danger.  
  
Scott doesn't like how that feels at all.  
  
"Talk to me." Cade murmurs quietly, but Scott doesn't speak. He just reaches a hand to grab Cade's waist and pull him closer, or, rather, as close as the bulk of their armour allows. It's enough for Scott to bury his face in the crook of Cade's neck, breathing in the familiar sharp aftershave, taking comfort in the fact he's right there.  
  
"Just... let me be a slightly overprotective boyfriend for a while." Scott says, half-laughing, but he's entirely serious. He's just glad when Cade responds with nothing more than his own gentle laugh, and a kiss to the tip of Scott's ear where he can reach.  
  
It's enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'm nice to the boys on occasion! I always enjoy writing Kadara as it gives me an opportunity to shed a little light on their backstories. I want to do a little self promo here though, as I recently got to publish my Mass Effect Big Bang piece which was an absolute blast to write, and covers Kadara in far more detail with Cade and Scott in a slight AU setting. If ZH has kept you interested, [here's a cheeky link to check out The Devil You Know.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11951868/chapters/27022584) Let me know what you think!


	42. Focus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! That was one hell of an unexpected hiatus, I'm hugely sorry for that. I took a total downturn with my writing and all hell broke loose, but hopefully I'm back on track now, and with plenty of ZH content to boot.
> 
> We're starting to reach the crux of crisis, so things will be moving quicker from here on in ;)

"Tension among Krogan?" Peebee's deadpan line across the comm room almost makes Cade snort, but he bites his tongue and keeps a straight face. "You don't say."

Next to him, he can see Scott on his peripheral, looking somewhere between exasperated and mildly entertained. Cade doesn't blame him; for the last 72 hours it's felt like everybody else but the Pathfinder was calling the shots, and he's just along for the ride. Today, it's Drack's turn. Something about a krogan colony on.. Eli-den? Elaaden?

Cade makes a mental note to pay more attention at meetings.

Drack grumbles at Peebee, but he turns to fix Ryder with a yellow-eyed stare. "I wouldn't waste your time with this if it wasn't important. We need to go."

If Cade ever learned anything about the krogan, it's that they don't bother with pleasantries when shit needs to be done. Wrex was always one to cut to the chase, however brutal, and Cade never thought twice about it. So if Drack is saying this is serious, Cade is fully inclined to believe him.

Vetra chirps an agreement from the opposite side of the table, arms folding as she adopts her usual stance. "I agree. Nakmor Morda made herself Overlord of the colony. It's weird."

Overlord? Cade frowns. That seems drastic.

"Yeah, that kind of sounds... odd." Cade agrees, "Why wouldn't they just overthrow her? From experience, krogan don't seem the type to sit on their arses when someone declares themselves an overlord."

Drack huffs, bringing his claws to rest on the tabletop with a dull thud as he shifts his weight. He looks like he has a lot to say, and Cade almost regrets participating in the conversation because he really, _really_ does not have the mental willpower for a monologue on krogan expansion.

"The krogan have been dealing with shit from day one, thanks to the Initiative. Least we can do is... show up." Scott interjects before Drack starts up again, and Cade is particularly thankful for that.

"Our priority is the Archon. We have to remain focused on his next move!" Jaal, having been silent for the majority of the meeting, finally speaks up. Every pair of eyes around the table lands on him, but he doesn't flinch. Cade notices how tense he looks, unusually so given his usual calm demeanor, and that's enough to make Cade feel uneasy.

And Jaal isn't wrong. Things are growing quiet, the wrong kind of quiet, and Cade feels like they're about to walk into the eye of the storm instead of moving out of it.

"Jaal's right - we can't waste any more time." Cora voices from Scott's other side, and even she sounds a little uncertain.

If they lose krogan support, they lose Drack. That's a blow for the team, Cade understands that, and the future repercussions are... not pleasant. This is meant to be a new start for everyone, krogan included - it feels wrong to deny them that.

But if the Archon outruns them, if he gets what he wants before they can stop him, then everybody loses that chance for a new beginning. Not just the krogan.

This isn't wartime, but Cade understands that cruel calculus is still a reality they need to navigate.

"Listen, I know dealing with so many unknowns is frustrating," Scott seems to know what to say, he always does. "But we need to have all our cards on the table before we go anywhere."

The tension in the room slowly dissipates after that, but Cade notices it still clings to Jaal like a shroud. The angara remains completely silent after Scott's interjection.

"Hey, if we're still pitching ideas - I overheard outlaws on Kadara talking about activity in the Remav system." Peebee seems eager to contribute, even if the suggestion isn't exactly helpful. Cade raises an eyebrow in her direction, fixing her with an incredulous look.

"So, choices are: chase a genocidal madman across a system we know nothing about, drop by Elaaden to get involved in krogan politics, or turn into bounty hunters because diplomacy got a little too close to the bone for us." Cade summarizes, exasperation gnawing at him like an unwelcome cold. He's got things to do - the civilian military on Prodromos needs updates, and he's working with Reyes on defenses for the Kadara outpost. And those things take time. Time that's currently being wasted.

Sensing Cade's irritation, Scott directs the discussion to a final point.

"Let's start with what we actually have: the transponder. The puts the Archon as a priority."

"But-" Drack pushes himself up from leaning against the table, sharp eyes landing on Scott with a new fire behind them. Scott just shakes his head, returning the stare just as well.

"If we start making diversions now, we'll never get back on track. And then we'll all be paying for it."

Drack grouses, but he nods once in Scott's direction, a simple acknowledgement of an unspoken command.

Scott spares a glance around the table, looking for anyone else who wants to complain. The quiet stretches on for a moment until he concludes the meeting with a simple order.

"Get Kallo the navpoints for Elaaden and that hit in the Remav." Scott says to Drack and Peebee, glancing between them before he carries on. "We focus on the Archon, but we keep our options on the table, okay?"

Receiving varying murmurs of agreement, Scott swipes off the holos and the comms drop into standby, lights dimming.

"Alright. Dismissed."

* * *

"This thing is driving me _nuts_." Gil slams a wrench down on the worktop, knocking the transponder across the surface before Cade catches it, shooting Gil a look.

"Let's not kill our only chance at finding the bad guy." Cade huffs, but he turns his attention to the transponder in his hand. It's a compact piece of equipment, badly damaged, but functional. It's just a signal receiver, but between the dust clogging up its sensors and the janked up internal arrays, it's not doing a great job.

"It's just a case of cleaning this up and... breaking that communication down." Gil waves a hand in Cade's direction while he searches in a nearby crate for a compressed air blaster. Cade hums an agreement, leaning against the work-surface idly, taking the chance to inspect the device a little closer.

Running a finger along the crack in its casing, he pulls at an opening, carefully. The crack splinters further, but it's only the outer casing that's suffering the worst damage, and they're unlikely to need it.

"Forget that, we can just strip it down to the emitter." Cade says to Gil, who walks back over to look, leaving a jumbled mess of equipment on the floor behind him.

"Uh, sure! You do that. If it goes tits up, I can just tell the Pathfinder you royally screwed up our one-way ticket to Meridian." Gil snorts, smirking as he steps away with a casual shrug. Cade narrows his eyes at him, not breaking eye contact as he pries the casing open and watches Gil's expression go from mildly amused to downright skeptical.

It's the loud crack of the casing that snaps Gil out of his momentary trance, and he rushes to grab the transponder out of Cade's hands.

"Okay, don't--"

Cade laughs, left holding the broken casing while Gil carefully handles the remaining components over to the work-surface again, muttering something about sledgehammers and fragile situations.

Across the way, the smooth hum of the doors pulls Cade's attention, and he looks over to find Scott approaching. It's a flash of blue and a smile that Cade knows like nothing else, but still manages to make him forget his words for a moment. By the time he's recovered, Scott's found his way over and is poking at the broken casing lying in Cade's hand.

"Ryder, tell your boyfriend to stop breaking things." Gil says to Scott in lieu of a regular greeting, shooting a pointed glare in Cade's direction.

Cade sees the telltale pink blush at the tip of Scott's ears at Gil's comment. He smiles to himself, suppressing a chuckle as he sets the broken casing down behind him on the worktop and directs his focus to Scott.

"He doesn't usually break things for fun, Gil." Scott snorts, rolling his eyes. Cade's smile turns smug as he shoots Gil a look when the man looks up from his work, entirely exasperated. Scott just grins, stepping over to look at the tech laid out in front of him.

"Alright, Ryder. What do we need from this?" Gil asks, getting back to the point.

"The location it points to. Should give us a fix on the Archon's ship." Scott says, but he doesn't sound convinced. Gil whistles through his teeth, eyebrows raised.

"No small order." he comments, "But luckily, no matter where you go in the universe, physics still apply."

With that, Gil gets to work, having cleaned up the worst of the dust and dirt from the components.

"There's only so many ways of communicating across space." he adjusts some of the arrays, finding the sweet spot where the signal hits. "There. Give it a shot."

Scott reaches for the emitter, wary, but nothing happens when he picks it up. Frowning, he's about to ask Gil if he's set it properly when a crackle of static splits the air in the room.

_"Nutok sho-lun ka!"_

Cade pushes himself off the workbench and strides over, fear rippling through him like the crackle of static over his skin.

"Turn it off!"

Scott fumbles for the switch, but Gil knows where it is and takes it off him, shutting it down.

"Careful. That is a direct line to people who want to murder everyone on this ship." Gil adds, helpfully. Cade just scowls, glaring down at the emitter. What if they already pinpointed the Tempest? They barely escaped last time. Looking up at Scott, he's a little relieved to see he looks more confident than Cade feels.

"SAM?" Scott directs the issue to the AI, who responds immediately.

"I have the coordinates. The signal points to the Tafeno system." SAM confirms.

There's a beat of silence as Scott looks back down to the emitter in Gil's hand, thinking. Cade wishes he could see those thoughts, but knowing Scott, they'd be running too fast for Cade to make head or tails of.

"We sure we want to do this?" Gil asks, quieter than usual. He's not the only one thinking that. Cade's overheard plenty of concerns down in the cargo bay, and in some ways, he understands. This is an unknown enemy, an unknown force - fighting the geth had been measured, he knew what resources Saren had access to. Hell, even the reapers were something of a known quantity after meeting Sovereign.

But the kett? They have nothing. They're flying blind, and the storm's already here.

"I don't see another choice." Scott says simply. He's already made his decision.

"Shit." Gil sighs. "I knew running off to Andromeda would be dangerous but... this is _dangerous_."

"It could be worse." Cade offers thoughtlessly, provoking a harsh glare from Gil.

"For you, maybe. You're soldiers - you sign up for risky shit as a day job. Us plebs? Not so much."

Cade's a little taken aback by that. He looks at Gil, trying to find some more meaning to what he's just said, but there's only that irritated glare locking him down. Not something he usually gets from Gil, of all people.

"Thanks for the tech support, Gil." Scott defuses the situation subtly, glancing at the engineer. Gil just nods, sighing as he rubs a hand across his face tiredly.

"Just... be careful." is all Gil says before he turns to start clearing up his workspace, his back to Scott and Cade. Scott takes it as a cue to leave, and he tugs on Cade's arm, signalling him to follow.

Once they're out of earshot, Scott lets go of Cade's arm, stopping abruptly once they pass the doors.

"We're not on a warship, Cade." he says, and in the short walk to the research room, Cade's managed to work out why Gil shut him down so quickly. Scott's right. Cade's used to warships, where everyone on board signed up to the same damn thing. Not here.

"Yeah, I just-- sorry." Cade rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, chewing absently on his lower lip when his thoughts get a little too intrusive. He hasn't had a bad day for a while, but today... today is pushing him. He can feel the static fogging up his brain, threatening to send him into an overload if he doesn't find somewhere quiet.

"Hey, you know I'm in the same boat as you. I'm not used to this either." Scott's trying to be reassuring, and Cade knows that, but right now? It's not working.

"But you can _deal_ with it, Scott." Cade says, almost through gritted teeth. Scott studies him for a moment, frowning.

"My room's empty. Go and chill out." he says after a moment, and Cade feels a sense of relief washing over his shoulders. "I've got to finish this report, but I'll be there when I'm done."

Cade swallows, throat dry. He doesn't bother speaking, energy crashing in that instant, so he just nods and manages a weak smile instead.

* * *

Scott's room is always cold. Cade shivers when he steps in, the frigid air closing around him in one easy motion as he crosses the room. He heads straight for the couch, bones heavy with exhaustion, and settles down. Rubbing his arms to stave off the cold, Cade finds himself gazing aimlessly around the room as the last of his focus dissipates. There's nothing homely in here, nothing personal of Scott's, and that makes it feel even colder, somehow.

It's as though Scott chose to leave himself behind too.

Cade doesn't want to linger on why.

Stowing the thought away, Cade curls up in the corner of the couch, arms folded and tucked against his chest tightly. His eyes are sore, more so when he closes them, but exhaustion is catching up too fast and he lets himself drift off.

 


	43. Synthetic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big chapter for you guys! I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to let me know what you thought! <3

"You're being ridiculous." Scott laughs, and Cade blinks, suddenly aware of his surroundings. It's warm. The air is a summer breeze on his skin instead of the cold of the Pathfinder's quarters. Frowning, Cade tears his eyes away from Scott for a moment, sparing a cursory glance around him. This isn't where he fell asleep.  
  
He can't work _where_ he actually is, though.  
  
There's... nothing. Nothing of significance. Shards of light splinter and crack into hues that Cade's never seen, but he's too distracted to focus on them right now. Pressing down with his hands, he feels a smooth, flat surface beneath his palm, and it's then that he realizes he's sitting on the floor.  
  
Or... well, whatever's beneath him.  
  
"What?" Cade only just registers Scott talking to him, and he glances back over at the man. Scott looks different too. Younger - but not by much. Carefree is a better word, Cade thinks then. He looks like he did on Arcturus.   
  
His chest tightens when he notices the difference, but he says nothing. Scott's just looking at him, hand outstretched.   
  
"I said you're being ridiculous." Scott says, simply, expression nonchalant. Cade, without thinking, takes the outstretched hand and pulls himself up.   
  
"Why am I being ridiculous?" Cade huffs, almost offended, but something tells him to listen this time. He looks around, still surrounded by the shards of light. He must be dreaming. Or is he? Virtual reality might fuck him up just as much. _Ugh_. Either way, there's one hell of a headache awaiting him.  
  
"Just look." Scott sighs, hand tightening around Cade's own. Cade lands his gaze over to where Scott points, expecting another sequence of broken shards, but this time he sees a familiar silhouette.   
  
"Normandy." Cade sighs, stepping towards it, but not letting go of Scott. He's lost in her familiar lines, each and every sight bringing an echo of warmth to his bones. He misses that ship, as much as he denies thinking about it. The Tempest has nothing on her, only a constant reminder of what he lost.  
  
Cade stops himself from going any further. "Why are you showing me this? Scott, where the hell are we?"   
  
Scott doesn't reply straight away. It's a few moments before either of them even move again. Cade is losing focus, but he forces himself to pay attention.  
  
Eventually, Scott lets go of Cade's hand, which falls idly back to his side.   
  
"You're still there, Cade." Scott sighs quietly, blue eyes looking unusually somber. Cade tries to step closer, but finds himself rooted to the spot. Scott looks at him, a sad smile on his face.  
  
"You're still back there, light years away. You're out of my reach."   
  
Cade wants to laugh, because Scott's right - this is ridiculous. This isn't _him_ talking. This is just a dream. He'll wake up, and he'll forget about it.  
  
He stays silent.  
  
Scott doesn't. "I'm not going anywhere, Deryn. But I can't keep looking back and hoping that you're there. It's not fair on either of us. You know that."   
  
Wake up. _Wake up._  
  
Cade opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is static, and everything disappears from sight. He wakes with a jolt, and hears Scott's voice over the comms.  
  
 _"Alright, Kallo. Take us in, but keep us stealthed. No sense in picking fights just yet."_   
  
"Aye aye." Kallo's reply sounds, and then the comms grow quiet again.   
  
Cade groans, aching from his awkward sleep, still curled up in the corner of the couch with a blanket tangled around his legs--  
  
A blanket?  
  
Cade stops his shuffling and frowns, tugging at the soft material. He recognizes it from Scott's bed, and looks over to find it's the very same, given the space on the bed where it should be. Jesus, how long was he out for? Scott must have been in. Cade fails to hide a smile at the gesture, despite the echoes of his dream leaving a sorry mark on his thoughts.   
  
He shakes off the rest of his sleep and sits up, the blanket pooling at his side. His legs bump against the coffee table, and something rattles until Cade catches it. A bottle of water sits next to an energy bar, and a hastily scribbled note in Scott's writing.  
  
'Eat up. I need you on this mission, and you're always grumpy when you wake up. -- Scott'   
  
Cade doesn't hide a smile this time, and chuckles to himself as he opens the bottle of water. After a few sips and a bite of the energy bar, Cade feels human enough to make an attempt to head up to the bridge. He steps outside of Scott's room, but the voices outside don't quite register until he's faced with both Cora and Lexi looking at him quizzically.   
  
Mouth full of chewed up energy bar, Cade barely strings enough coherent thoughts together to mumble a greeting that sounds more like vague noises instead of words. Cora looks like she's trying to hide a smile, but she nods his way before disappearing into the crew quarters while Lexi lingers in the doorway to the medbay.   
  
"How are those bruises?" Lexi fixes Cade with a pointed glance, shifting the unspoken topic, and Cade can feel the slight swelling that's fading at his jaw. Kadara left quite the mark.  
  
"It's calming down." Cade offers, after finishing another bite of the energy bar. Lexi manages a small smile.  
  
"Good. I won't keep you - Scott's on the bridge. We just entered the Tafeno system." she tells him, and before Cade can respond, she's disappeared back into the medbay, doors whirring softly shut behind her. Swallowing what's left of his energy bar - and his pride, apparently - Cade makes his way to the ladders and pulls himself up to the walkway that leads to the bridge. Pocketing the empty wrapper, he steps through the doors to find Scott with his back to him, taking up his usual position at the helm.   
  
"Pathfinder, sensors confirm the presence of the Archon's ship." SAM's smooth words filter over the comms, and Scott huffs, almost in disbelief.  
  
"Well, shit. That transmitter actually worked." he murmurs, bracing himself on the console as he leans forward slightly to get a better view out of the Tempest.   
  
"Ryder, there's something else--" Kallo pipes up, tone wracked with heavy concern, and Cade looks over. "That's an Initiative ship attached to it."   
  
The room goes dead for a split second that everybody feels keenly, the silence overwhelming.   
  
"One of the Arks?" Cade offers a suggestion, not entirely surprised. The situation makes a certain kind of sense, especially given the lack of communication with the remaining Arks. No surprise that the kett found them first.   
  
Scott looks over his shoulder, only just realizing Cade is there, and a flicker of a smile ghosts across his face before he returns his glance to Kallo.  
  
"It's Ark Paarchero." Kallo says, grimly, and Cade notices the way the salarian's shoulders drop at that. Scott mutters something to himself, turning away and back to the console.  
  
"SAM?"   
  
While they wait for the AI, Cade makes his way over quietly to Kallo, nudging the seat.  
  
"It's held out this long." he says lowly, and Kallo glances up at him, blinking. He looks to be in thought for a moment, before he manages a sharp nod and returns to his work.  
  
"Confirmed, Ryder." SAM sounds through the room again, "It matches the Salarian ark. Readings suggest it has been here for some time."   
  
Scott pushes himself away from the console, gesturing out of the viewport to where a docking bay looks to be on the Paarchero. "Get us in close, Kallo. We'll board the ark first -- the ships are tethered, I'd bet good money there's a way across without triggering every alarm on the Archon's ship."   
  
Infiltration? Cade supposes it might work.  
  
"Ryder, the Moshae is on standby." Jaal steps up onto the bridge, doors closing behind him. Cade looks over to find him walking towards Scott.   
  
"Right, we're looking for Meridian. SAM, can you connect the Moshae to the bridge?" Scott turns back briefly, all too eager to get going. There's a crackle of static before the Moshae's holo forms.  
  
"Ryder, it's good to see you again." she says, but Scott's impatient. He manages half a greeting before he gets to his point.  
  
"We've located the Archon's ship. It's more complicated than we thought, so I wanted to make sure we knew what we were looking for." he explains, glancing out of the viewport quickly before returning his attention to the holo.  
  
"A large Remnant relic depicting Meridian. It's in his private chamber-- his sanctum, he called it." the Moshae tells him simply, and Cade's left wondering what the hell she's talking about. Sanctum? That sounds like a place the Archon would want to defend. Maybe infiltration would only get them so far.  
  
"Alright, that's what we needed. Thank you." Scott sighs, and is about to call off the communication when the Moshae speaks again.  
  
"Be careful. I've seen the Archon's cruelty." she spares a glance at Cade and Jaal before returning to Scott. "I hope you don't."   
  
With that, the call goes dead. Scott sighs, staring at the ground for a moment to collect his thoughts. He takes barely a moment before he's on the move again, turning to Cade and Jaal.  
  
"Let's gear up and get on that ship."   
  


* * *

  
Boarding the ark goes smoother than they expect. Cade's not letting his guard down, eyes darting around the bay they've entered, which looks remarkably familiar. He supposes all the arks must have had the same basic design, tweaked for each species. Not something he'd put much thought into before, and he's not about to start now. Rolling his shoulders, he hears the satisfying click of the Valkyrie settling into its holster, and focuses his attention back to Scott.  
  
"Pathfinder, if you can access a terminal, I can assess the situation." SAM speaks, cold and clear through the eerie silence of the ark. There's no life here, Cade notices straight away as they step further into the bay.  
  
Scott moves ahead and finds a terminal, patching SAM in. Jaal lingers on Cade's peripheral, still and stoic. Drack, meanwhile, all but stomps through the bay, almost knocking medical equipment off the cots as he passes. Cade shoots him a pointed glare, to which the krogan responds with a grumble as he stops.   
  
"That's not regulation." Scott's statement catches Cade's attention, and he looks back over to the vidscreens displaying salarian propaganda for the Initiative. It looks standard to him, given what he remembers from the Hyperion.  
  
"What's not regulation?" Cade asks, stepping forward so he's next to Scott, peering over at the terminal.  
  
"This was encoded." Scott frowns, glancing up at the vidscreens, the soft blue light illuminating his face for a moment before he swipes at the holo. "SAM, did the salarians do this?"  
  
"It appears so. It's a cryptography key associated with their intelligence services." SAM informs them.  
  
Cade snorts, rolling his eyes as he moves away from the console again. "Oh, good. I just _love_ it when the STG get involved."   
  
"I detect a hint of sarcasm there." Scott comments drily, tapping at the console while he speaks.   
  
"Virmire." Cade says simply, offering no further explanation. Scott stops for a moment. A few seconds later, he glances over his shoulder and meets Cade with a look that's more apologetic than he expects.    
  
Before Cade can say anything, the vidscreens glitch and spill a dim red light out into the bay, casting the furthest reaches of the room into darkness. Scott's hand hovers over the console, but he stays still, eyes fixed on the screen.  
  
A warning flashes up, and a broken message follows.  
  
"--Captain Hayjer, if you are--ceiving this message, hostile aliens-- captured our ship--" a voice, unmistakably salarian, delivers the encrypted warning and leaves the room feeling even colder than it was when they stepped in.  
  
"-look for our Pathfinder- Zevin Raeka. Situation urgent."   
  
Nobody says anything for a few moments. It's a few moments too long, in Cade's opinion, and he heads towards the locked bulkhead door across the bay.  
  
"SAM, override." he orders, and the sound of the doors grating open is enough to spur the others back into action. Scott quickly overtakes Cade, climbing the stacked crates and kett structures that litter the hallway.  
  
"Kett infrastructure. SAM? How's the ship looking?" Scott asks, hopping down from a crate.  
  
"Some kett infrastructure has been added, but the ark's systems are operational." SAM confirms, and Cade takes that as a small blessing. They'd be dead in the water if the ark was beyond repair.  
  
"So it's flight ready." Cade says, and Scott nods his way.   
  
"Exactly what I'm thinking."   
  
Escape route in mind, they head on through the ark, set on finding the salarian Pathfinder before things get worse.  
  


* * *

  
Raeka isn't what Cade had been expecting. He's used to salaraians being skittish, fickle characters, always prodding at things that were better left alone. And while Raeka is devastatingly sharp, she's honest. Brutally so.   
  
_"A leader leads. She doesn't go to sleep."_   
  
A statement Cade could get behind, truth be told.  
  
Making their way through the tether to the kett ship, Cade's thoughts are scattered with various intent - one on their escape route, another on the enemies waiting aboard the ship, a third honing in on the static building in the back of his mind. There's a sensation in his hands that sparks every so often into biotic energy, and he's almost itching for a fight. Just something to _do_.  
  
Granted, after being led on a goose chase involving a body switch, courtesy of one dead colonist and the Pathfinder herself, Cade's patience is running thin. That might be it too.  
  
Once they clamber out of the narrow tunnel to a docking bay door, Scott unholsters his pistol and mutters an order for SAM to override the door. Cade unlocks his Valkyrie from its holster too, feeling much better with a familiar weight in his hands. He can hear the rustle of Drack's armour and Jaals rofjiin as they arm themselves too.  
  
"Quick and quiet." Scott reminds them, and then the doors slide open.  
  
The next few moments descend into utter chaos faster than Cade can keep up, and he finds himself dropping his gun to synthesize two deadly biotic lashes instead. Blue twists and tangles around his arms as he directs the energy in quick, deft strikes, upending kett grunts and relentlessly sapping the shields of anyone getting a little too close to Scott. He builds up a rhythm, pulling chaos into order, turning dissonance into a melody he's familiar with until there's nothing left in front of him but burn marks on the ground.  
  
"We walked right into that one." Jaal comments, out of breath as they regroup. Cade laughs, turning back to the group once he's double checked the few bodies in front of him.   
  
"Well, they can't raise the alarm if they're dead, Jaal." he says, biotic lashes trailing on the floor as he walks. He notices Jaal eyeing them suspiciously, so he disperses the energy and reaches down to pick the Valkyrie back up.  
  
"I'm afraid I still don't understand your... ah, biotics?" Jaal admits, holstering his rifle. Drack rumbles a laugh next to him, reloading his shotgun with total nonchalance.   
  
"Haven't you been nagging Cora and Peebee about them?" Cade asks, recalling pieces of Jaal's conversations in the hangar bay in passing. He holsters the Valkyrie, waiting for Jaal's response.   
  
"...I haven't been _nagging_." Jaal huffs, and Cade hides a grin. "Cora says it's like a sneeze. I don't know what that is."   
  
Scott's reloading his sniper on the edge of the group, but Cade catches the slight smirk on his face before he turns away and puts his mind back on the mission.  
  
"Another terminal, SAM?" Scott asks, and Cade assumes SAM's utilizing their private channel for once. He watches Scott head over to another terminal and open it up for the AI to access. They're looking out of a viewport, the Paarchero in clear view on the other end of the tether, and Cade briefly wonders at just how the salarians ended up here.   
  
Plain old shitty luck? Maybe. Cade gets the feeling there's something more going on here, though. Something sneakier, more in line with the usual STG antics. A ship with twenty thousand salarians, and not one of them protested the surrender? Cade doubts that.  
  
"I have located the Archon's private chamber." SAM chimes back over the team comms, and Cade looks over at the terminal.  
  
"How about the Archon, SAM?" Scott asks, all too wary of running into such an enemy. SAM is silent for a moment before he responds.  
  
"That information is unavailable, Pathfinder."  
  
Scott sighs, fiddling with his helmet seals to secure them again after a kett got too close in that last fight. He turns away from the terminal and heads back down to the main deck when the comms crackle into life again.  
  
 _"Ryder..."_   
  
It's Raeka. Cade frowns. What's she doing here?  
  
"I thought you were on the ark." Scott says, a little abrupt.   
  
_"Too many of our people are missing."_ Raeka tells them, before another voice joins the conversation.  
  
"If we don't find them now, we never will."  
  
 _"This is Hayjer, captain of our ark. We'll focus on the rescue, you push ahead, Ryder."_ Raeka fills in the blank, and SAM offers them an alternative route.   
  
Cade feels uneasy with another group on board. There's just more scope for things to go wrong, especially when they're out of reach. Regardless, there's nothing he can do about it, so he tunes it out and focuses on his own group.  
  
SAM marks the navpoint, and Cade follows his team without a second thought.  
  


* * *

  
Of _course_ there's a catch. Cade's listening to Raeka and Hayjer explaining their plan to navigate the inconvenient snag that is the huge fucking gun aimed squarely at the ark. He's running every possible scenario through his head at a mile a minute, and nothing sticks. Nothing makes sense. Hell, even words are starting to get a little blurry now.  
  
It's all he can do to stand there and listen, let alone pay attention to what they're actually saying.   
  
Something about an EMP device, Cade just about gathers. Scott seems to think it'll work, and that's enough for him.   
  
The conversation scatters, and the salarians are on their way before Cade returns to attention. Scott directs them back on their route to the Archon's chamber, and they head through another set of doors, quiet murmurs being passed between Jaal and Scott regarding Raeka's plan.  
  
"Why are we still talking quietly?" Drack grumbles.  
  
"Because we're infiltrating a ship." Jaal says, tone unwavering.   
  
"Yeah, uh, we literally blew the front door open. I think they know we're here." Cade offers, maybe not so helpfully, but Scott smothers a laugh up ahead.   
  
After some more grumbling from Drack and Jaal both, they encounter another room with unmarked doors. SAM directs them towards one, but it slams shut as soon as Scott gets within reach. With a groan of frustration, Scott heads to another door, muttering to SAM as he goes.  
  
"They are hardening their security, Ryder. Try scanning the access console." SAM suggests.   
  
Scott brings up his omnitool, the orange light filling the space for a moment while he works. Once he's done, SAM pipes up again.  
  
"The door is voice activated. I can attempt to modulate your vocal chords to approximate kett intonation."   
  
Cade takes a moment to realize what SAM's saying, and then he's torn between laughing or detesting the idea totally.  
  
"O-oookay. Uh. Sure." Scott sounds even less convinced. Somehow, it works, and the door opens to let them through. Cade barely stifles a laugh once they're in.  
  
"Impressive." Jaal says, "But also disturbing."   
  
Cade agrees, but the light-hearted mood is quickly stomped out by the sight of kett labs in the following rooms. Now _this_ is disturbing. Everyone slows to a snails pace, constantly glancing from side to side to peer through the glass panels, obscuring what Cade can only guess were brutal experiments at some point.   
  
"Ryder..." Jaal's voice sounds faraway, and when Cade looks, Jaal's standing by what looks like a cluster of... stasis pods. His stomach churns uncomfortably at the realization.   
  
Scott walks over, confirming the worst as his scanner identifies the victims enclosed. All salarian colonists. All dead. All victims of... grossly inhumane experiments, it looked like.  
  
"This is sick." Scott grimaces, shutting his scanner off forcefully. Even Drack looks disturbed, and for a grizzled old krogan, Cade takes that as a rare sight.   
  
"Come on. We've got to move." Cade tries to pull them back on track, and he feels a little better once he hears footsteps following him down the walkway to the next set of doors. It's deathly quiet as they make their way through the next room, which is empty save for the echoing moans of dying captives from behind the glass. That noise sticks with Cade, right behind his eyes, each echo rattling through his skull.   
  
"We can't be far." Scott murmurs quietly, and he breaks into a jog as a grand set of doors opens up into a darkened room. Cade follows behind, keeping up easily, and he's keenly aware that Scott seems to be running faster and faster until they're both sprinting, eyes dead set on the next door that would grant them a chance at Meridian.  
  
"Ryder, Shepard--" SAM's tone carries a warning that goes unheard, as both Scott and Cade are yanked off the ground and bound by a foreign energy wrapping tightly around their wrists, resisting every attempt at freeing themselves.   
  
"Shit!" Scott struggles even harder, and Cade's trying to spark his biotics, just to see if it'll do something. It only reacts to the foreign energy at his wrists, clashing, lighting up his nervous system for a brief second of blinding agony that tears a scream from his throat before he can stop it.   
  
"Cade? Cade!" Scott's voice is on the edge of his vision, sparking out in grey and blue and not quite forming sound as much as a rattle of sensation over his skin. This isn't normal - this isn't his body reacting. It's _synthetic_. Cade can feel the metal plates under his skin shifting, being jarred with every shock the restraint delivers. It's relentless--  
  
"It's useless to struggle." Another voice. Guttural and raw, suited better to the harsher noises of its native tongue than the broken attempt he's delivering. Of all the shitty luck... definitely the Archon, Cade thinks, and he cracks his eyes open.   
  
Sure enough, the Archon stalks towards them, and Cade lands his eyes on Scott, finding him suspended next to him. Scott's not watching the Archon though. Cade hones in on those bright blue eyes staring right back at him, laden with concern. He hears movement behind him, and can only assume Jaal and Drack are in the same trap. Scott doesn't look away until he hears the Archon stepping closer.  
  
"I've been in this forsaken galaxy for decades." the Archon mutters, far too close to Scott for Cade's liking. "Then you arrive-- a human, able to do the unthinkable. You even evaded me."   
  
"Don't try it." Drack's familiar rumble sounds behind Cade then. Cade wants to say something, to warn the Archon, anything to get him to back off, but his throat is tight and he doesn't trust his voice not to shatter as soon as he speaks.   
  
The Archon has the audacity to let out a low chuckle. His stride turns arrogant as he circles his trap, just once, until he's back in front of Scott again, eye to eye.  
  
"Such an unlikely rival. It was almost invigorating to have one." he says simply, cocking his head just so, just to mock. "And yet, this is a fitting end."   
  
"Oh, no. I don't think so. I've seen what you've done. Your experiments-- they're inhuman!" Scott snarls and spits, teeth clashing as he strings together his visceral response, but the Archon doesn't flinch.  
  
Instead, he smiles. Slow, deadly, and grim.   
  
"It's what I call _progress_." he says, and as soon as his words take shape, his hand snaps up, talons wrapping around the column of Scott's throat before Cade can blink. That sends him into a blind rage, and he pulls at his restraints with another flash of biotic energy.   
  
As soon as Cade does that, his entire body feels like it's on fire. Every single nerve is frayed, strung tightly and held in place as his muscles seize with a fresh wave of agony, the burning sensation only fading to leave a ringing in his head, the taste of blood in his throat, and tears stinging at his eyes when he screws them shut tight.  
  
He hears words being thrown behind him, but he can't match them to a voice - everything sounds like static. The old ache in his shoulder flares up as soon as his muscles relax, and he lets his head drop, a pathetic whimper slipping out as the last of the shock wears off slowly. He manages to open his eyes after a moment, colours blurring for a second before they crystallize into shape and form. The first thing he sees is a spot of blood on the ground below him, and he feels the familiar trickle of warm blood over his lip, trailing from his nose. _Shit_. His implant must have been rattled if the energy was reacting so severely to his biotics.  
  
"What did you do to him?!" Scott's voice splinters through the static for a moment, but Cade doesn't dare look up, feeling the strain at the base of his neck where his implant sits. On his peripheral, he can see the Archon moving closer, away from Scott and over to him.   
  
"A fascinating sample." is all the Archon says, ignoring Scott completely as he reaches to wrap his talons around Cade's neck this time, forcing him to look up. Cade finds himself face to face with the Archon, vision blurring as pain shoots down his spine for a second until it clears up, and he stares back defiantly. Cade can feel the Archon's talons digging in, almost breaking his skin as he turns his head forcefully, inspecting the scars he finds.   
  
"You look human." the Archon murmurs, lips pulling thinly over sharp teeth, almost spitting as he speaks. Cade glowers back, eyes wide, lips curled into a snarl.  
  
"I _am_ human."   
  
Cade's so focused on the Archon, he doesn't notice one of his lackeys approaching him. It's only the sharp, sudden pain in his neck that alerts him to the device that the lackey just jabbed him with. He tries to pull away, but the Archon keeps him still.  
  
"Save your strength." he says slowly, almost patronizing, before he finally lets go. A faint crackling sounds in the space between them, and the Archon turns to his second in command with a glare.  
  
"Report."   
  
Cade can't make out a single word emanating from their comms system, only noises, meaningless and ugly. With the Archon distracted, he manages to spare a glance over at Scott, who mouths something to him.   
  
_What did he do?_  
  
Cade doesn't know. He shakes his head slightly, and Scott looks even more concerned. Cade wishes he could say something that would actually help, but there's nothing he can do until they get off this damn ship.  
  
A sudden rustle of armour distracts them from their silent conversation, and they both turn to find the Archon making to leave. He fixes Scott with a calculating glare, but says nothing, and finally turns away, his men following close behind.   
  
"Oh, fuck me, that _hurt_." Cade groans, finally able to speak. His whole body feels overly sensitive, like even a gentle touch would sting, and moving is an ordeal in itself. He's fairly sure his armour is the only thing keeping him together.   
  
"Shit. Did either of you see what the hell that guy had in his hand?" Scott throws over his shoulder at Drack and Jaal.  
  
"I don't know, kid. Looked painful, though." Drack comments, shooting a cautious glance at Cade. Jaal shakes his head next to Drack, and his silence is answer enough for Scott.  
  
"Let's just focus on getting out of... these." Cade sighs heavily, sparing a glance down at the rippling bands of energy wrapped around his wrists, locking him in place.  
  
"Right, yeah." Scott turns his attention back to the mission in an instant, that ruthless soldier facade slipping back into place, "SAM, what can you tell me?"  
  
There's a beat of silence before SAM responds.  
  
"I am detecting biological transmitters." SAM says, and Cade swears the AI sounds almost concerned, however impossible that is.   
  
"Uh, plural?" Scott asks for clarification, and SAM confirms.  
  
"I am attempting to neutralize them." SAM adds a moment later, but Cade isn't reassured in the slightest.   
  
"Alright, that's, uh- that's priority two. First: how do we get out of this?" Scott sighs, exasperated.   
  
"The containment fields only interact with living matter." SAM explains, but each word manages to tug on synthetic heartstrings, "If you expire, the field will extinguish around you until manually reset."  
  
 _Expire?_ What the fuck. Cade blinks, barely able to comprehend the words before he's talking back.  
  
"Wait, what? You mean someone has to-"   
  
"As you know, Ryder, my access to your physiology allows me to enhance your vital signs when required..." SAM continues, despite Cade's outburst. "I can also do the opposite."  
  
The penny drops, hitting the ground with a deafening, shrill ring that goes right through Cade.   
  
"I get it." Scott says, and his nonchalance almost hurts Cade.   
  
"After stopping your heart, I would attempt to resuscitate, of course."   
  
_Stopping your heart._ Cade just stares blankly at the wall ahead of them, willing his breathing to even out because it's starting to hurt. He wants to say something, but he can't.   
  
"That's the only option?" Scott asks after a moment, quieter, less certain. Cade swallows, tearing his eyes away from the wall and over to him.  
  
"Scott..." He manages to say, those bright blue eyes now fixed on him. Any other words he might have had are suddenly stopped in their tracks when SAM speaks again.  
  
"It is the the only option I can determine, Ryder."  
  
 _Do better, SAM!_ is what Cade wants to say, but he doesn't.   
  
"Do it." Scott says, and those words are enough to make Cade's blood run cold. "It'll be fine."   
  
Cade tunes out after that, static encroaching, filling up every sense to such a degree that Cade can barely make out the dull thud as Scott's body hits the ground. It's a sound he's heard so many times before, a sound he's been the cause of more often than not, but linking it to Scott just makes his stomach churn with dread. He tries to look, just to convince himself that it'll be fine, Scott's words still lingering in the air. Instead, he only sees the very image that wakes him from nightmares.   
  
Dead. He's dead.   
  
"SAM?" Drack rumbles behind Cade, the moment stretching out too long for anyone's liking. Why isn't SAM--  
  
"Stimulating the cardiovascular core..." SAM's voice finally sounds, but when Scott remains completely still, the fear grows even colder. "Zero activity."   
  
No. No. Not an option-- _No._  
  
"Scott, come on." Cade murmurs under his breath, "Get up. Please."   
  
Visions start to flash behind his eyes of a life in Andromeda, entirely alone. It approaches at light speed, billions of stars fading to black before Cade can reach any, completely stranded and at the mercy of the unknown. That alone is enough to make his heart pound against his ribcage, cold sweat beading at his neck. That can't happen.  
  
It _won't_ happen.  
  
Scott's chest rises with a gasp, eyes flashing open, the bright blue clear as day. He pulls himself up into a sitting position, breathing heavily, and he shakes his head.   
  
"Scott?" Cade asks, the cold grip of fear falling slack as soon as Scott looks at him. Scott manages a shaky smile, but it falters quickly as the reality of what's happened hits him.   
  
"Right. Coming back from the dead isn't an experience that's improving, not gonna lie." Scott brushes it off, hauling himself to his feet.  
  
"I believe it is preferable to the alternative." SAM adds, and Scott suppresses a thin laugh as he turns to face the group, still trapped.   
  
"You look comfortable." Scott quips idly, quirking an eyebrow as he tries to hide a smile. Cade just glowers at him, not exactly in the mood for joking right now. Scott seems to notice, smile fading, and heads to hit the override before anything else can happen. The group hit the ground with a thud, interspersed with groans from Drack and Jaal as they pull themselves up.   
  
"Everyone okay?" Scott asks, casting a careful eye over the team. Jaal waves him off, smoothing down his rofjiin and checking his rifle. Drack just grumbles, tugging at the collar of his armour with an affirmative nod. Cade's still on the ground, struggling to get up. He feels impossibly weak, like he's burning out on energy.   
  
"Cade?" Scott walks over, crouching down to where Cade is, on his hands and knees, barely able to keep himself from swaying. He feels Scott's hand on his shoulder moments later, and even the slight pressure makes him wince.  
  
"I don't know what's..." Cade shakes his head, unable to finish the sentence. Scott frowns, concern etched into every line of his features.   
  
"SAM?" Scott asks, glancing upwards briefly, as if SAM is in the room.   
  
"I am unable to determine the cause." SAM says simply, "I would assume something is blocking me from accessing Shepard's data. It is likely to be the injected transmitter."   
  
Injected. Right. That must have been what he felt. What exactly is it transmitting, though?   
  
"It's affecting my implant, SAM. I can feel it." Cade says, stifling a groan as he gets to his feet, albeit unsteadily. Scott moves up with him, hand moving to his arm, and he's almost holding him up when Cade reaches his full height.   
  
"Oh, he looks bad." Drack comments, and Scott gestures for Drack to come and help. Drack obliges, roughly taking Cade's other arm and hauling it over his shoulder.   
  
"Thanks." Cade says, sarcasm still firmly intact.  
  
Between Drack and Scott, they manage to make it out of the room, Jaal following closely with his sniper at the ready. They're up against time, and with the Archon presumably headed for Raeka's team, they need to move.  
  
Easier said than done when you're a man down.


	44. Coincidence

"Shepard, I've told you: it's returning negatives." Lexi sighs, switching her scanner off and setting it on a worktop nearby. Cade just glares, frustrated, already stifled by being off duty, and now he's dealing with a problem that seemingly can't be fixed.

It's that transmitter, the one the Archon implanted. He knows it's there, it feels like a glitch in his system, just shuddering out of place every so often. Except nobody can see it.

Not even SAM.

That's worrying.

Sighing, Cade sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and smooths out his expression. It's not Lexi's fault. She's put up with his incessant nagging for three days now, and it's hardly fair to pin this on her when she's got the rest of the crew to look after too.

"Sorry." Cade utters eventually, voice much quieter than usual. Lexi just shoots him a withering glance, but there's a softness to her expression that she usually reserves for Scott and Drack. He takes that as a good sign, and slips off the cot onto his feet lightly, about to head for the door.

"Shepard..." Lexi's voice stops him in his tracks, and he half-turns to look at her warily. She quirks her brow at him. "I meant what I said. Doctors orders really are orders, and you are pushing yourself far beyond what your body is capable of right now."

Cade barely suppresses a scowl. "Alright. Thank you."

With that, he leaves, stepping into the cool air of the walkway. He considers heading back to the crew quarters and just... isolating himself for a while. He doesn't feel like talking, or thinking, or really _existing_. Everything seems much more tiring, and Cade knows it's that old familiar feeling he used to get on the Normandy, the feeling of running yourself into the ground just to reach the other side.

Problem is, he has no idea where the other side is. Neither does Scott. Not really.

"Shepard?" a voice pulls him from his thoughts, and he looks down the walkway to find Cora lingering by the entrance to the cargo bay, a bottle of water in one hand and a towel over her shoulder.

"Hm?" Cade pulls himself together from his scattered thoughts, turning to face Cora properly. She narrows her eyes for a moment, as if analyzing something, but the moment quickly passes and a smile appears on her face instead.

"You look like you'd be a good training buddy." she says, leaving very little room for argument as she turns around and heads towards the hangar. Cade just rolls his eyes at her retreating back and follows, at least glad to have something to focus on instead of... nothing.

Scott's been on the Nexus all morning. Cade hasn't been keeping track of time much lately, but it's long enough for Cade to notice that he's already starting to feel out of place on the Tempest again without him around.

"Be nice to me, Cora. I'm on doctors orders." Cade snickers as he rounds the glass divider to where Cora's hanging up a punchbag, and kicking crates into place. She turns and flashes him a half-smile, not exactly a promise, but it's something.

"I'll tone it down just for you." Cora says, rolling her eyes as she pulls the last crate onto a stack. Cade just watches, sitting himself down on another stack of crates where he stretches his legs out, heels planted on the floor to stop himself from sliding off. Cora does some simple boxing warmups, deftly moving from foot to foot as she throws her punches. She's holding back, Cade knows, he's seen her tear kett to literal pieces. Perks of being an overpowered biotic.

"Is this how you train?" Cade asks, skeptically. Cora pauses, holding her hand out to stop the bag swinging back into her as she looks over at him.

"What?"

"Not using your biotics." Cade gestures, nodding towards her hand on the punch bag. Cora sighs, hand curling into a fist as she gently bumps the bag away.

"They'll tear this thing to pieces." She tells him, "I'd think you'd know about that sort of thing."

Cade gets her meaning. _Your biotics are just as bad_. He smiles wryly, raking his fingers along the material of his fatigues.

"Only recently." Cade admits, watching Cora get back to work. She starts up the steady stream of punches and jabs again, interspersed with delicate footwork and maneuvers. The asari training is obvious after a few moments of study.

"Oh?" Cora responds, a question in the air, even if it isn't voiced entirely.

"I trained as a close quarters combat specialist. Alliance latched onto the idea of a biotic vanguard, a shock trooper they could send in to harass the front lines or take out specific targets." Cade explains, reaching down to fiddle with his boot laces while he talks. "I could do the basic charge and grab, shockwave if I needed to, but anything else was pushing it."

"So, what? You learned some new moves?" Cora huffs, bouncing back slightly to land a few solid kicks. The thuds echo in the hangar while Cade thinks on how to explain it.

"I was, uh... rebuilt." he says, the words almost sticking in his throat. "Rewired. The stuff I can do now is pretty hardcore. Having that energy at your fingertips constantly is kind of weird."

"Like itches that you can't scratch?" Cora offers, her punches slowing as she turns more and more of her attention to Cade.

"Yeah, exactly." Cade nods, sitting upright again. He leans back slightly, pushing his weight onto his elbows as they lean on the crate. Cora doesn't say anything for a minute, focusing her energy onto the punch bag as her blows land harder each time. Eventually, she stops, holding the bag in place to stop it from swinging before she lets go, reaching for the bottle of water on the floor.

"Rebuilt, huh?" Cora asks then, taking a swig of water. She swills it around her mouth before she swallows, looking at Cade expectantly. She's after an explanation. Cade isn't sure what he can give away. He's not willing to tell people about Cerberus - not yet.

"Yeah. New implant, heavy bone weaves, amplifiers. They did a lot of work." Cade shrugs it off, pretending not to notice Cora's incredulous expression.

"Who's 'they'?"

Cade stares blankly at the punch bag, half-expecting that question to drop at some point.

"I don't know." he answers, and Cora just shoots him a look, eyebrow raised.

"You're not telling me you have no idea how you wound up with those improvements?" she snorts, screwing the cap back on her water bottle before she sets it down on a crate, turning back to Cade.

"That's exactly what I'm telling you." Cade sighs, sitting up again. He brings his hands to his lap and twists his fingers, pulling and locking and trying not to dwell on the conversation before he gives too much away. Thankfully, Cora seems to notice his reluctance, and she changes the topic.

"Hopefully Ryder will be back soon, and we can get back to the stuff we know we're good at, huh?"

Cade looks up, throwing a weary smile her way. "That sounds good. What was he headed to the Nexus for, anyway?"

Cora shrugs, picking up her towel to wipe the sweat beading at her neck. "I think it was something to do with Sara. There's been some progress."

Sara. Cade remembers her. Dark brown eyes, long flowing hair, a little shorter than Scott but with plenty of attitude to make up for it. Scott doesn't talk much about her, never has done. He extended the same courtesy to the rest of his family. That was all Cade needed to know, even before Scott had admitted the reality of it.

"He didn't seem worried, though." Cora adds.

"He's not... that close to his family." Cade says quietly, pushing himself up so he's sitting properly on the crates now, legs hanging over the edge.

"I got that impression from Alec." Cora admits then, and she looks sympathetic for a fleeting moment. "He always talked about his wife, and Sara. Never Scott."

For some reason, that stings. Cade's heard this story a thousand times, but to hear it from another perspective? It cuts a little deeper, on skin that's already broken.

"Was he a troublemaker?" Cora tries to lighten the conversation, hopping up to sit on her own stack of crates next to Cade. She draws a knee up, hugging it to her chest while she rests a cheek on top, waiting for Cade's answer. Cade smiles, despite himself. Troublemaker was one word for it, but that part came later.

"He _is_ a troublemaker." Cade chuckles quietly, "But he never used to be. They just... weren't a family. He told me that a long time ago. It's why he joined the Alliance, to get away from them."

"Oh..." Realization dawns in Cora's expression then, and Cade just nods.

"Yeah. He's pretty pissed that Alec ruined that for him too."

Silence hangs over the cargo bay then, not uncomfortable, but loaded with unanswered questions. Cade doesn't feel like answering any more, so he turns the tables.

"What about you, Cora? Any family?" Cade looks over at her, bringing his legs up and crossing them, resting his hands in his lap. He's feeling calmer now, Cora's easy tones and serene demeanor no doubt helping.

"Only child. Parents left the picture years ago." Cora summarizes quickly, and Cade gets the feeling she doesn't want to talk about it. He lets it go, nibbling at his bottom lip between his teeth, exhaling softly.

"Your turn." Cora says, and it's obvious she isn't really thinking about her question at this point. It hits Cade, hard.

Sure. He has-- he had family. _Had_. He's been burying thoughts of them ever since he woke, desperately trying to keep himself afloat. His silence is extremely telling, and Cora then realizes her mistake. Her eyes widen, and she looks at him, mouth half-open on an apology.

"It's okay." Cade says, and he means it. If it wasn't, he'd have told her. Maybe it would do him some good to talk about them. Just a little.

"My parents died years before I made it anywhere in the Alliance." Cade begins, scratching at his stubble absently. "Both military. Dad was a real hardass, but he taught me a lot. Mum just... loved what she did. I guess I saw the Alliance through rose-tinted glasses for a while."

Cora nods, silently urging him to continue.

"I was closer to my siblings." Cade adds, almost as an afterthought.

"Siblings? How many of you were there?" Cora asks, reaching for her water bottle again. Cade smiles to himself, glancing down at his hands.

"Four of us. I was the oldest." he tells her, "Then there were my two brothers, and my sister."

"God, I almost feel sorry for your sister." Cora laughs quietly, and Cade joins in, nodding.

"Oh, she really had a lot to deal with. Me and my brothers were terrible."

"I bet." Cora smiles, taking another sip of water as their laughter dies down. Cade definitely feels better, especially when he sucks in a breath and his shoulders don't weigh him down so much. They're content to sit like that for a while, each comfortable in the other's presence, knowing there's no obligations lying over them. There's simply an understanding between them, and that's enough to let both of them breathe a little easier.

It's not until SAM's artificial voice fills the bay that they even realize Scott's back on board. His footsteps echo before he reaches the hangar, alerting both Cora and Cade to his presence. They glance over to the walkway entrance, finding Scott talking absently to SAM as he rounds the corner.

"Alright. Thanks, SAM." Scott dismisses the AI, finally looking up, and he stops when he sees Cade and Cora watching him intently.

"Uh, is this a biotics only meeting?" Scott quirks an eyebrow, and Cora just snorts, rolling her eyes as she hops off the crates, picking up her towel from the ground.

"No, I'm just her workout buddy." Cade says casually, legs swinging against the crate.

"All you _do_ is talk." Scott snarks back with a pointed glance, and Cade just responds with a grin.

"Hey, it's all he's _allowed_ to do. Doctor's orders." Cora reminds Scott, walking over to pick up her bottle. "We staying on the Nexus for a bit?"

Scott nods. "Yeah. Shore leave for a few days while Gil sorts out the mess we made of this ship."

"Well, we could all do with some R&R. You included, Ryder." Cora says pointedly, before making to head out of the bay. "I'm going for a run on the station." she calls over her shoulder before disappearing out of sight.

Now that they're alone, Cade notices the way Scott's just not quite his usual self. His shoulders are hunched slightly, his entire body seems coiled with an unspoken tension, and his gaze is constantly drifting. Cade frowns, about to voice his concerns when Scott nods his head over his shoulder, gesturing for Cade to follow. Cade pushes himself off the crate and onto his feet, quickly following Scott down the walkway.

Neither of them says anything as they approach Scott's room. The doors slide open smoothly, granting them access, and Scott heads straight for his desk tucked away in the corner of the room. Cade only takes a few steps in, and listens for the doors closing behind him before he decides to move further in.

"What's wrong?" Cade asks, straight to the point as he dares. Scott leans back against his desk, thumb and forefinger rubbing at the bridge of his nose while he exhales sharply. The tension is practically rolling off him in waves, and it's rare that Scott ever looks so wound up.

"The Initiative, for a start." Scott mutters, closing his eyes for a moment. Cade suspects he does that so his eyes don't give him away. He knows his weaknesses.

"Did you find something out? I thought you went to see Sara." Cade tries to catch up, feeling like he's missed a chunk of the story, despite Scott barely saying anything. Scott sighs, dropping his hand and opening his eyes again.

"I did. She's.... awake. Pissed. But awake." Scott sounds reluctant to even talk about her, so Cade tries to push him onto another subject.

"I'm guessing something else happened." Cade says, and he finally walks over the rest of the way. Scott seems to relax a little when Cade leans on the desk next to him and nudges him with his arm. Almost immediately, he feels Scott's weight slump into his side, and he braces himself with his free arm.

"This whole fucking Initiative is a con. It's messed up, Cade." Scott sounds more hurt than angry, and the waver in his voice hurts to hear. Cade shifts a little so that he can slip an arm around Scott's shoulders, pulling him that little bit closer. Scott's only too willing to move into his embrace, easily fitting at his side.

"Start from the top, Scott." Cade tells him quietly, thumb rubbing small circles on his shoulder. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's beginning to wonder just how much of the Initiative has ever been real. Everything feels so carefully orchestrated, right down to the fact that _he's_ even here.

"Ale- Dad sold it to everyone as some kind of pioneer adventure. A chance to discover the unknown, and all that bullshit you heard at the beginning." Scott says, "But I didn't buy it. It didn't make sense for so many people to risk everything on a whim."

Cade has to agree. The entire idea of Andromeda - even now, it still strikes fear into him - was a pipe-dream for a long time. Exploring one galaxy had proven enough of a challenge for humanity, let alone expanding further beyond that.

"And you know I've been having these... triggers? These things that let SAM unlock my dad's memories?" Scott looks up at Cade then, eyes searching. Cade just nods in answer. Scott's told him plenty about these memories - they ranged from Alec's first negotiations with the Alliance regarding AI to the most recent series of family moments that Scott hated reliving.

"Well, I unlocked a few more." Scott drops his gaze, staring across the room now. "And, shit, I was not expecting what I saw. There was something - _someone_ \- behind this whole Initiative, a benefactor of some kind. Someone who had enough time and resources to pour into this--"

"What?" Cade interrupts, "I thought the Initiative was a collaborative thing."

Scott nods, and then he moves out of Cade's grip, turning instead to face him straight on. "Yeah, on the surface. There's something bigger going on, Cade. Something massive, and it's right under our feet."

"This is sounding a lot like--"

"Cerberus." They both reach and voice the same conclusion together, and the idea that Cerberus had orchestrated all of this is... disturbing at best. Downright terrifying if Cade thinks about it too hard.

"Cerberus rebuilt you, Cade." Scott says, "This isn't a coincidence."

Cade shakes his head. "Definitely not. I don't see what we can do about it, though."

Scott sighs, falling into silence for a short few moments. He reaches for Cade's hand, absently brushing his thumb over Cade's knuckles, locking their fingers together while he thinks.

"I'm going to have to ask you to do something for me." Scott murmurs, and he sounds incredibly uncertain. Cade ignores the fact his heart is now hammering inside his chest, and squeezes Scott's hand.

"Tell me."

"I can't take you with me for ground missions, so instead of you being stuck on this ship doing nothing... I need you stationed on the Nexus. Just- just for a week, maybe a little more." Scott reveals his plan carefully, eyes on Cade the entire time.

Of course, Cade doesn't like that idea one bit. The idea of being away from Scott in a place he doesn't know with people who don't trust him is more than enough to set the alarm bells off, but he ignores them. This isn't about him - there are people who are going to suffer if they don't work this out, and fast. Cade sighs heavily, dropping his head for a moment.

"Cade, I wouldn't ask if--"

"No, I know. It's alright. That sounds like a plan." Cade glances back up when Scott speaks, and he manages a reassuring smile. "It makes sense, Scott. You focus on Meridian, and I'll figure out what's going on with this benefactor."

"Are you sure?" Scott asks, biting his lip, brow furrowed with concern. Cade just nods, reaching up with his free hand to cup Scott's cheek, thumb brushing over the bone. Scott leans into his touch, just slightly, but it makes Cade feel so much better.

"We'll figure it out, _cariad_."


	45. Dissonance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely NSFW.

Being docked at the Nexus means a quiet ship, and Cade isn't even sure what to do with himself. He's been pacing the engineering deck for so long, he's sure he's worn a path into the floor by now. Gil can yell at him when he gets back onboard, Cade thinks, grumbling to himself as he dithers about with nuts and bolts that need organizing. He can barely focus on them for more than 5 minutes before his mind is just as disorganized as they are, focus dwindling rapidly. He knows there's something on his mind, but he's been ignoring it for days.

Cade doesn't want to leave the Tempest. The thought of being alone on the Nexus is just... honestly, terrifying. The thought of it makes his skin crawl, and he's frustrated that he's even struggling with the idea. Slowly and surely losing his grip on what makes him Commander Shepard is deeply unsettling, and as eager as he is to hand the reins over to Scott, he's equally scared of where that leaves him.

Commander Shepard wouldn't think twice about such a mission.

Cade, however, hasn't been able to think of anything else for two days.

The thought quickly overwhelms him and he slams a metal draw shut, the resonating ring playing on his nerves like a lyre. He needs to do something else. Go somewhere. Just... get out of his head.

He needs to talk to Scott.

Pushing himself away from the workbench, Cade heads out of the engineering bay and heads for Scott's room, eyes fixed on the ground beneath his feet the entire way. There's nobody else on the ship to see him like this, and he's glad for it. They barely believe in him as it is.

He's been completely out of sorts lately and he knows it. Ever since the Archon's ship. It's the image of Scott on the ground, still, eyes closed - it haunts him like nothing else, but there's something more to it. Whatever the Archon did to him, he can feel it, sitting under his skin. Glitching. And when he thinks about it too much, it seems to hurt, as if pain could translate through the metal plates under his skin into human touch.

Cade just shakes it off - not for the last time - and stops outside the Pathfinder's quarters. He hesitates, and he isn't sure why. Should he knock? Or maybe Scott's busy--

"Ryder is available if you would like to see him, Shepard." SAM's cool-toned voice chirps out of nowhere, startling Cade and pulling his attention back to the room instead of all the what-ifs running through his mind.

"Oh, right. Uh, thank you, SAM." Cade manages, not quite wanting to get into how the AI seemed to understand his thoughts more than he did. After a beat of silence, Cade bites the bullet and swipes at the access console. When the doors slide open, he steps in quietly, glancing around.

The room is always quiet, and Cade finds comfort in that. The stars are intensely bright outside of the viewport, but he pays them no further mind as he walks into the room. He finds Scott hunched over at his desk, vidscreens half blank, the other half relaying lines of code and scattered, glitched out images. Scott's been holed up in here for days too, and Cade's feeling the distance more than he likes.

"Hey." Cade greets him quietly, voice too loud for the expanse of the room. At that, Scott turns around, and his tired features brighten immediately, lips quirking into a familiar grin.

"Hey, yourself." Scott sighs, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his face with his hands, stifling a yawn.

"You need a break." Cade says, flopping down onto Scott's couch with ease, fixing Scott with a pointed glance when he's settled, leg propped up on the coffee table in front of him.

"I don't think the Pathfinder gets a break." Scott snorts incredulously, rubbing at his temples. He shakes his head after a moment, as if shaking off his exhaustion, and Cade wishes it was as easy as Scott makes it look.

"You okay?" Scott asks, directing the attention over to Cade instead. Cade just quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't question why.

"Yeah." Cade answers, eventually, but Scott doesn't seem anywhere near satisfied with that answer.

"Something's bothering you." Scott says, and it's not a question. Cade looks at him, not quite knowing what to say next. He came here for a reason, but he can't nail that reason down. He just gravitates to him, no matter what.

"Maybe there's a lot on my mind." Cade admits, reluctantly. He moves his leg off the coffee table, sitting up with his elbows resting on his knees, fingers locking and unlocking in repetitive motion. "Like, I don't know, the entire two weeks I'm meant to spend on the Nexus not knowing where you are."

Scott's expression softens in that instant. He understands. But there's more to it than just what Cade's telling him - they both know that much.

Scott isn't about to let it go this time either.

"You never put this much thought into anything, Deryn. Not even _us_. So why now?" Scott asks, and his words are so simple and unassuming that Cade stumbles right over them with his carefully planned answer, which is now in pieces somewhere in his head. He opens his mouth to reply, and nothing comes out. He just looks blankly at Scott, who watches him with an intensity Cade almost remembers.

The silence is only broken when Scott pushes himself up out of the chair, sending it rolling slightly back into the desk with a metallic thud that rings. Right at that moment, the cold air snaps over hot skin, heightening every sense to an almost painful degree. Cade's eyes are locked on the way Scott moves over to him, not quite able to look anywhere else, and with their loaded conversation hanging in the air, Cade can only wait with bated breath.

"Why now?" Scott repeats his question, voice still soft and blue, old familiar blue, but Cade can't shake the feeling that there's something else. Something new. He swallows audibly, simply watching as Scott covers the last few feet with easy strides until he's standing right in front of Cade.

"Because it _matters_." Cade blurts out, looking up at Scott now. "Because you-- you're worth so much more than I can--"

Cade stops talking when he feels Scott's cold hands cup his face gently, thumb smoothing over cheekbones, fingers curling gently around his ears in fluid motion, and it's... soothing. Cade feels himself relax almost immediately, and he slides his eyes shut, not quite wanting to look.

Instead, he reaches up with his own hand, wrapping gentle fingers around Scott's wrist, a thumb grazing the back of Scott's hand over the lines of familiar veins and bone.

He tries again.

"You're important to me. Beyond important. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, in this galaxy or the last, and I just... want to do right by you, Scott." Cade explains, breath a whisper over Scott's wrists, "And I'm scared that I'll mess it up."

"Cade." Scott sighs, and he sounds relieved - that's enough for Cade to open his eyes and seek out Scott's blue again. "Cade, you don't need to worry about that."

"Why not?" Cade asks, almost innocently, but Scott's leaning close enough to ruin that pretense. Cade drops his gaze to his lips and back, biding his time. At that, Scott smirks, the crooked line of his mouth giving rise to slightly flushed cheeks. Cade feels the couch sink lightly as Scott moves closer, a knee pressing down by his left side, shortly followed by the other on his right side until Scott's hovering over him, hands moving from his face down to his chest, the cold trail easily felt through Cade's thin t-shirt.

Cade has no doubt Scott can feel his heart pounding underneath his palm, but Scott only pushes him back, slowly, until his shoulders hit the back of the couch. Cade swallows again, licking his lips, scrambling for words he doesn't really need. Scott's there to save him though, like always, only this time it's with a searing kiss instead of gentle words. At first, Cade doesn't register it, but his hands move and settle into place at Scott's waist, and he finds himself after more. Scott's lips are warm and pliant on his own, even when he pushes back, teeth grazing over Scott's lower lip. Scott pulls away then, and smiles at Cade's indignant glare.

"Because I know I love you." Scott tells him, plain as day. Those words sit like the first sunbeams of high summer through a cold pane of glass, warming Cade through in a way he never imagined it could feel. Scott's smile is confident, clear, and Cade finds himself returning one of his own, a little shy and crooked, but earnest, at least. Everything seems to slowly click into place, guided carefully by Scott's gentle hands, reworking the frame until it fits.

Cade doesn't wait any longer, and he reaches up to meet Scott again, lips colliding with a renewed desire. Scott pushes him back, taking the control from him. He deepens the kiss with deliberate motion, hands roaming up to the column of Cade's throat where his nimble fingers follow muscle and tendon with ease. Cade tries to keep up, his own hands tugging at Scott's shirt, fiddling with the hem until he slips a hand under the loose material, fingers playing over smooth skin. Cade's thoughts are racing beyond what he can understand, but he knows he's safe with Scott, in this room, locked away from the distance of Heleus that frightens him so much. Even just sparing a brief thought to the world outside those doors makes him tense up, and Scott notices, breaking the kiss again to lean back slightly and fix his eyes on Cade.

"Relax. It's just us."

Cade knows that. He nods, looking up at Scott. Those eyes give everything away, whether Scott wants them to or not, and Cade adores it. It's the subtle crinkle at the corners that hides a smile, the gentle furrow of his brow that betrays his worry. The little things that so many people miss, but Cade sees it all, and remembers it with careful reverence, almost in awe that he's allowed to see so much.

"You're amazing. You know that?" Cade grins, letting the last of his worries roll off his shoulders as Scott runs his hands over them. Scott just laughs, but Cade sees the pink at the tips of his ears.

"Well, if you want to tell me that, I won't get tired of hearing it from you." Scott murmurs, laughter fading as his hands settle round the back of Cade's neck, playing idly with the soft curls of Cade's hair while he talks. Cade leans back into his touch, and presses his hands further up Scott's body until he reaches the hard ridges of his chest. Scott's smile turns wicked, eyes sharp as they rake over Cade, leaving him feeling vulnerable and open.

"What do you want?" Scott asks, so casually, that Cade almost feels embarrassed to admit it. He knows Scott's just teasing, fully intent on following through with whatever idea Cade comes up with, so Cade smirks right back and drops his hands to Scott's hips, hooking deft fingers at the waistband of his trousers.

"We have a ship to ourselves." Cade hums, leaning in slightly, just enough so he can nuzzle the curve of Scott's neck. Scott sighs contentedly, but his smile stays firmly on his face. A hand tangles firmly in Cade's hair, lightly scratching his scalp and sending a shiver down his spine.

"We have a ship to ourselves," Scott confirms, humming contentedly when he feels Cade's lips brushing slowly up, open-mouthed kisses turning to teeth at the line of his jaw. "So, what do you want?"

Cade stifles a growl, both irritated and amused, knowing he's entirely at the mercy of Scott's way with words. Scott's delighted laugh stirs up a warmth in his belly despite it all, and his patience topples over the limit. Removing his arms from Scott's waist, he pushes Scott down off his lap and onto the couch, grinning as he looks up at him in surprise. It doesn't last long, though, and Scott's wicked smile is quickly back in place by the time Cade leans over him, not bothering to waste anymore time before stealing another kiss. This time, it's slow and certain, accompanied by gentle hands exploring Scott's body, strong and firm undermeath those hands.

"That's not an answer." Scott mumbles, breaking the kiss yet again, and Cade just laughs, sweet and golden for once instead of harsh red. He sits up, straddling Scott, hands resting at the groove of his chest.

"Would you just shut up and let me show you, instead?" Cade asks, but his tone is completely lighthearted and his smile gives everything away. Scott can't help but lose his snark in favour of a bright grin, but his eyes wander down to the dark grey tee obscuring the best view in front of him.

"I think we can start by losing this." Scott says, tugging at the hem. Cade just rolls his eyes, but he does what Scott wants, discarding the shirt on the floor some feet away. It catches him off-guard to turn back to Scott staring unabashedly, those blue eyes drinking him in. Cade feels the heat rushing to his cheeks, and he almost wants to bring his arms back to his chest and hide, suddenly aware of how fast he's rushing. Scott moves under him, distracting him briefly. He reaches up, blue eyes fixed on Cade's gold with a dark intensity that somehow makes Cade feel safe again instead of vulnerable. Cold hands find their way to Cade's chest, running over every muscle, every line, trying to commit them to memory once again.

"You've been working." Scott comments, lips tugging up into a half smile, awe shaping his words. Cade just chuckles, the sound reverberating through Scott's hands and down to his own chest, and for a moment it connects them beyond a physical level. Golden thread. That's what it feels like.

"Not much else to do." Cade replies easily, and Scott looks up at him. He just stares for a moment, and then reaches up to wrap his arms around Cade's neck, bringing him back down to him. Cade lets him, caught up in another kiss before he has a chance to react. Scott deepens the kiss eagerly, tongue drawing over Cade's lower lip until he gives him access. Cade has to reach behind Scott to brace himself, hands gripping the arm of the couch just to try and stay in place. As much as he tries not to jostle them around, he ends up breaking the kiss with a barely-stifled laugh.

"Scott-- wait, I'm gonna fall off in a sec."

Scott's own heady laughter mixes with his, even as he tries to steal a few more half-hearted kisses in-between moving into a more comfortable position. Eventually, they settle for Cade taking Scott's place, making it all too easy for Cade to run his hands up Scott's stomach, riding his shirt up deliberately. Scott yanks it off the rest of the way, chucking it to the floor without a thought as he moves back in, pressing soft and fleeting kisses to the exposed column of Cade's throat. Cade's hands return to Scott's skin, now warm and pliant, the buzz of physical connection marking every touch.

"Mhm. I missed this." Scott murmurs over Cade's skin, lips brushing over stubble and leaving a sweet, subtle burn.

"You don't say--" Cade breathes, half-smiling, eyes closed in contentment. His hands move to Scott's back, fingers digging in slightly, just enough that Scott arches and grinds his hips downwards with a moan escaping him. It's enough to feel excitement growing, and Cade keeps moving his hands down until they reach Scott's waistband. He slows down, drawing it out, despite the heat pooling between them. Hell, if Cade's about to be spending the next two weeks on the Nexus, he's making the most of what he's got tonight.

Thoughts safely stowed away, Cade allows himself to focus entirely on the man above him, currently raking a hand over Cade's chest, fingers following the line of his pecs to a hardened peak. He pauses for a moment to look at Cade, keeping his eyes fixed on him as he flicks a thumb over the bud, watching how his expression changes, the way his lips curve on a lazy, contented grin, golden eyes half-lidded as they watch him. Scott grins back, leaning in for a sweet, fleeting kiss that holds more than words can right now. With Scott's attention elsewhere, Cade slips his hands under Scott's waistband and squeezes his ass, relishing the stifled moan that Scott buries into his chest. It's enough encouragement for Scott to push things up a notch, palming himself through the starched fabric of his fatigues as he sits up, tongue darting out to lick his lips. Cade just watches, keenly aware that he's in exactly the same predicament, made worse every time Scott moves on top of him.

"That's not fair." Cade says, half-laughing, but too enthralled to mean it. He decides to get his own back instead, kneading Scott's firm ass again, smirking when it grants him another sweet moan from Scott. He withdraws his hands then, moving quickly to get rid of the belt that's very much in his way. It joins their shirts on the floor, followed by boots and trousers as both of them decide they've wasted enough time. Eager hands explore newly revealed skin, Scott drawing absent shapes with open-mouthed kisses over Cade's bare, freckled shoulders while Cade leaves more than a few marks at the curve of Scott's neck, hands planted firmly on Scott's thighs.

"C'mon, enough of the teasing already." Scott whines, head resting on Cade's shoulder for a second as Cade laughs.

"Look who's talking." Cade says, turning to press a kiss to the tip of Scott's ear, but he obliges - mostly. He moves a hand between them, torturously slow, touches feather-light. Scott's breath hitches audibly when Cade's touch drifts right where he wants it, hard and waiting. Cade's bravado is swept away immediately, replaced with a new intensity in those golden eyes, locked on Scott's blue. Scott holds him there for a moment, but need runs deeper than the hold of fleeting moments like this, and he's quickly ridding himself of his briefs while Cade pushes him back onto the opposite arm of the couch. Scott hits the back with a grunt, taken off-guard by Cade's movement but he barely has time to think before Cade's lips are on his cock, closely followed by his tongue marking careful lines that make Scott squirm, eyes sliding shut as he groans. Cade takes his time, his hand working in time with his mouth to build up an easy rhythm, free hand wrapped firmly around Scott's thigh, his leg hooked over Cade's shoulder.

"Cade..." Scott sighs, and Cade releases him with a 'pop', looking up at him. Cade slows down with his strokes, thumb circling the head to catch the sloppy precum with a lazy smile, eyes still on Scott who's watching him, transfixed. After a moment, he reaches down to run his fingers through Cade's hair, and when Cade's about to put his mouth to good use again, Scott tugs him off.

"Hm?" Cade shoots Scott a questioning look, cheek resting against his thigh. Scott just gives him a crooked smile.

"Bed. _Now_." he says, almost a command, and it sends a jolt right through Cade who can't respond quick enough. Cade pushes himself off the couch, reaching down to pull Scott up with a barely-contained laugh. Scott swallows it up with a sweet kiss, committing the sound to memory and enjoying every bit of it. Cade reaches his hands to the backs of Scott's thighs, hoisting him up easily, breaking the kiss as he does but Scott only grins down at him, arms hung over his shoulders casually as Cade carries him over to the bed. Scott's legs are wrapped firmly around Cade's waist even as Cade maneuvers them onto the bed, one arm wrapped securely around Scott while the other braces their shared weight as much as he can. Kisses turn to bumping noses and soft laughter, both entirely swept up in being with each other again that the world outside seems so incredibly insignificant.

"And we can get rid of these." Scott interrupts, unlocking his legs from Cade's waist, letting them fall to the bed as he sits up to hook deft fingers in the waistband of Cade's boxers. Cade pulls his arm free from underneath Scott, standing back up to his full height. There's a challenge written in his eyes when he regards Scott, slowly looking him up and down, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth while he drinks in the sight. He's always been tall and lean, but the hardened line of muscle drawing over his abdomen is new, as are the defined curves of his biceps and shoulders. Stronger, but there's scars there too. Cade so often forgets the passage of time that Scott endured after he died, and to see it bared in front of him is... he doesn't know how to feel.

He doesn't know _how_ to feel.

Scott just waits. When the silence stretches out a little too long, he gets to his knees and reaches to curl a hand around the back of Cade's neck, pulling him down gently so he can meet him with a kiss, unhurried, allowed to take solace in a moment neither thought they'd find. That's enough to bring Cade back to him, and Scott smiles into the kiss when Cade moans into his mouth, Scott dragging a thumb over the hard outline of his erection through the all-too inconvenient material of his boxers. Cade remembers Scott's words then and steps away, tugging the material down and kicking them off, eager to return to Scott's gentle hands and kind words.

"Better?" Cade chuckles lowly, Scott working his way down his chest with wet kisses, fingers trailing lower until they curl around Cade's length firmly, turning his laughter into a stifled moan.

"Much." Scott looks up then, a devious grin in place. Cade gently shoves Scott back a little, and Scott complies, sitting on the edge of the bed. He guides Cade closer to him, hand gripping his hip while the other works him slowly, thumb ghosting every ridge and vein. Cade drapes an arm loosely over Scott's shoulder, eyes closed as he lets himself enjoy every heightened sensation, the blue shimmer of his biotics lighting up briefly when Scott's mouth replaces his hand. His motions are so precise, so perfectly orchestrated to drive Cade to the brink and keep him there, cheeks hollowing, tongue darting out to lap greedily at precum until Cade's hands are tangled in his hair, pulling him off with a growl.

"Won't last if you keep that up." Cade tells him roughly, and his lips are on Scott's before Scott can fix him with a smug grin. He's demanding, now, pushing Scott back onto the bed, hovering over him to pepper his body with reverent kisses wherever he can reach. Scott takes the momentary distraction, hands running gently down Cade's back until they reach the curve of his ass, and he drags Cade's hips down, grinding into him. Cade shudders, stuttering out a groan when Scott does it again, and by the third time Cade's mind is in total whiteout. He's barely coherent enough to string together his request.

"Scott, _fuck_ \-- I need you to--"

Cade doesn't get a chance to finish before Scott's turned them over, one arm braced across Cade's chest while the other returns to Cade's dick, briefly relieving him with a few short strokes. It doesn't last long, though, as Scott's entirely set on drawing this out as long as he can, if his wicked smile is anything to go by. Cade just holds onto Scott's arm across his chest, half-formed words swallowed up by obscene moans as Scott's hand draws even lower, finger coated in a mix of spit and precum.

"What do you need?" Scott asks, looking down at Cade with that smile still firmly in place. Cade bites back a growl of frustration, writhing underneath Scott's surprisingly strong grip, unable to get out.

"You know what I-- oh, fuck!" Cade strings some more words together through gritted teeth, but his train of thought is derailed entirely when Scott's finger brushes over his entrance, only for a second, but enough to leave him entirely at Scott's mercy.

"Hm?" Scott still isn't satisfied with Cade's half-formed answers, and Cade gets the feeling he's enjoying this way too much. Every self-satisfied smirk just drives him crazy, and Cade knows that Scott's been waiting for this just as much as he has.

"Scott, I want you. _Please_." Cade's all but begging, looking up at Scott through half-lidded eyes, now more molten gold than anything. It's enough for Scott to lean down and kiss him, removing his arm from Cade's chest so he can move again, and he draws his hand back up, gently trailing fingers along Cade's chest until they curl around his neck, feeling the strain of tendons underneath skin. They only break apart for Scott to reach over to his bedside table and open the draw, rattling around for the lube he always has stashed away. Turning back, Scott nuzzles into Cade's neck, pressing a few soft kisses at the curve of his shoulder as he mumbles a request for him to turn over. Cade does as he's asked, settling onto his front, braced on his elbows as he watches Scott over his shoulder with rapt attention. The pop of the bottlecap makes him bite his lip with anticipation, eyes never leaving Scott's fingers as they move easily, coated in slick by the time he chucks the bottle on the bed and returns his attention to Cade.

"You look so good like this." Scott breathes, and Cade just smirks back at him with a wink that makes Scott laugh. Scott leans over him, pressing a kiss to his cheek briefly before he works his way slowly down the lines and muscles of Cade's back, undeniably impressive after years of hard work. Freckles trail down his shoulderblades where they fade out at the point, and Scott tongues the dip of his spine which draws an appreciative hum from Cade. Scott continues down, nose brushing the ridge of his spine up to the curve of his ass, his hands reaching up to squeeze a handful with a playful growl as Cade buries his moans into the bedsheets.

"Come _onnn_ \--" Cade whines, lifting his hips up, and Scott just chuckles quietly at his impatience. He takes his time even more so when Cade protests, fingers roaming carelessly. He stops before Cade can complain again, spreading his cheeks with firm hands splayed across his ass, tongue darting out to lick a strip across his hole. Cade tenses with a gasp, and Scott runs a hand down his arched back with a soft hum.

"Relax." he says gently, and he watches for the tension to release, made obvious by Cade's back muscles relaxing under his touch as he smooths his hand back across his tanned skin. Once Cade's breathing evens out again, Scott gets back to work, pointer finger circling his entrance with intent, and he keeps teasing until Cade pushes back and Scott relents, pushing past the ring of muscle slowly. Cade's moans string out into curses and back, each accented word making Scott's dick twitch against his belly, and he hastens to add a second finger once Cade tells him to. Scott could watch Cade like this as long as he'd let him; writhing, eyes closed, mouth spilling out noises that Scott could only commit to quiet memory, the dark, damp curls of hair on his forehead and his flushed cheeks. Scott adores it. Adores _him_.

Forcing his attention back, Scott reaches for the bottle of lube again, flicking it open with one hand and letting it drip onto his aching length until he's satisfied, setting the bottle aside and returning to stroke himself while his fingers work Cade's tight ring just a little looser. Scott adds a third finger when Cade rocks back onto him, demanding. Cade's whine pitches into a sharp cry of sheer pleasure, and Scott bites down on his lip to keep from making any noise, wanting to listen to Cade and nothing else.

"Oh, shit. Yeah-- Scott..." Cade forces himself to look over his shoulder at Scott again, breathing already ragged, and Scott withdraws his fingers slowly, a hand smoothing over Cade's lower back gently.

"Yeah?" Scott asks, shifting closer on his knees, still stroking himself slowly, deliberately teasing. Cade's eyes drift down then back up, raking over every bit of Scott with unbridled awe.

"I need you to fuck me, right now."

Scott doesn't need telling twice. He lines himself up, a hand resting in the curve of Cade's back while the other guides him where he needs to be, the head of his cock pressing against Cade's entrance. That alone is enough to send Cade into mindless incoherence, given how long Scott's drawn everything out. He decides he's wasted enough time by now, and presses in slowly, a careful eye on Cade the whole time. He's hot and just tight enough around his dick, dragging out every sensation as Scott finally lets slip a bit of his control, groaning out his appreciation. Scott curls a hand at Cade's hip, holding on tight enough to leave bruises, but he doesn't care. This is perfect. Scott stills long enough for both of them to get comfortable, and he starts up a careful rhythm when Cade rocks back onto him, wanting more.

"Jesus, fuck." Scott moans quietly, running a hand up Cade's back, gripping onto his shoulder as he builds up his speed. Cade matches him easily, without even thinking, just able to tune in on a whim. The thought sends a jolt of pleasure through him, and he pushes himself up onto his knees with a growl, determined to take some of the control back from Scott. Scott doesn't falter though, slipping an arm around his neck carefully, holding onto his shoulder as he thrusts harder. Cade reaches up with one hand to grab onto Scott's arm, nails digging into pale skin as Scott drives him into wordless ecstasy.

"Cade, keep going." Scott breathes into his ear, willing him to not let it be over so soon. Cade tries to speak but his words take no shape and he's left holding onto Scott, trying desperately to ignore the urge to finish himself off, dick hard and heavy against his thigh. He can feel Scott's rhythm failing, turning erratic and desperate, and he reaches down to squeeze Scott's thigh behind him, skin on hot skin, biotics thrumming beneath the surface and in the minimal spaces left between them. His nails leave red crescent moons on Scott's pale skin, a mark to join the rest he's left on his body, and a rush of satisfaction surges through him like a wave about to break.

"Scott..." Cade can barely say his name, so dangerously close to the edge, every single thought honed in on that building pressure. He hears Scott moan something into his ear, breath hot against his flushed skin, but the words slip right through his fingers and spill out onto the bed, followed by his own shuddering cry as he comes, Scott driving him right over with relentless force. Cade feels the familiar burn of teeth on skin as Scott muffles his own strangled cry, face buried in the dip of his shoulders, feeling every tremor roll through Cade, bringing him to his own climax.

For a moment, all they can do is hold on, each keeping the other from toppling over in a tangle of limbs and sweaty, sticky skin. Cade lets his head fall back, resting on Scott's shoulder when Scott finally moves out of him, hands wrapped firmly around Cade's middle, both breathing hard. Scott mindlessly presses fleeting kisses to Cade's neck and shoulder, murmuring reverent praises and words that just about make sense to Cade as he regains his senses slowly, a lazy grin spreading over his face. He reaches up behind him, carding fingers gently through Scott's sweat-damp hair, not quite trusting his voice to carry words yet.

"That was..." Scott's the first to speak, voice hoarse, but he cuts himself off with a breathless laugh. Cade just chuckles quietly and slides out of Scott's grip, lying down on his back to look up at him.

"Pretty amazing." Cade fills in the blank, smiling up at Scott with bright eyes, looking far more at ease than he's been for a while. Scott notices, and he leans down to steal another kiss while he can. It's short and sweet, but both of them know it means more than words can spell out, right now.

"Hmm." Scott agrees, bumping his nose into Cade's with a grin, before reaching up to smooth a thumb over Cade's flushed skin. Cade would be content to lie here forever, if he's quite honest, but he knows he's in desperate need of a shower. Being sweaty and sticky loses its charm pretty damn fast, and especially when the room is suddenly warmer than Cade's used to.

"You're a mess." Scott comments then, snorting a laugh as he sits up and looks Cade up and down. Cade just shoves him playfully, but Scott catches his arms and pulls him up with a smug grin.

"And whose fault is that?" Cade pokes Scott in the ribs, making him squirm with laughter.

"Worth it." Scott says, "So, so, _so_ worth it." he punctuates his words with further kisses, one to Cade's nose, and the crease of his brow, and then his lips again. And again. Every gesture just makes Cade feel even more at home, somehow, in a galaxy he never expected to find home in. And he can't deny how much that means to him - to have a place to go to.

The stars outside the viewport don't frighten him so much, not with that thought in mind.

"Scott, I..." Cade trails off before he even gets anywhere, and he feels his heart is pounding in his chest, breath skittering out in uneven bursts. Normally, he stops by now. Normally, he stows the thought away and goes another day wondering when he's ever going to tell Scott.

And of course, by now, Scott had beaten him to it. _'Because I know I love you.'_

_Just tell him._

Cade forces himself to look at Scott then, those blue eyes as certain as ever. They give him confidence beyond what Scott even knows, and they have done for years. Cade's never been able to explain why.

Not until now, at least.

"Cade?" Scott's waiting.

"I love you too, Scott. More than anything." Cade says, finally, and all the sleepless nights and endless days spent wondering whether he should ever tell him suddenly become worth it, if only for the smile Scott gives him then.


	46. Echoes

It's the first time in a long while that Cade's slept without a nightmare waking him up, leaving him exhausted no matter how much he tries to go back to sleep. Instead of waking up with a clenching fear in his chest, it's a pleasant warmth sweeping through him, made softer by Scott's arms around him.

Cade cracks an eye open, not quite wanting to embrace the start of a new day shift - and especially not the day shift that will see him posted on the Nexus for the immediate future. Stifling a yawn, Cade stretches his arms under the pillow, weighed down by Scott's ridiculous octopus grip. He smiles to himself regardless, knowing there's nowhere else he'd rather be right now. He manages to turn himself onto his front, resting his head on his arms to look at Scott, still fast asleep next to him. It stings a little that he looks so much more himself here than Cade remembers, and he wonders if the spaces between them are as much of a home to Scott as they are to him.

"Scott." Cade murmurs, aware that time is ticking by, and the longer they draw this out, the worse leaving will be. Scott only stirs briefly, sleepy noises muffled by the pillow he buries his face into. Cade snorts, half-laughing as he reaches over to nudge Scott's shoulder gently.

"Five minutes." Scott mumbles, withdrawing his arms from around Cade to tuck them up to his own chest, grumbling nonsense words into his pillow when Cade keeps nudging him. Scott gets his five more minutes, despite Cade's consistent efforts. Eventually, Cade gives up on that tactic.

"Oh, Jesus." Cade sighs exasperatedly, huffing as he pushes himself up on his elbows. "Scott, wake the fuck up."

He gets nothing but vague murmurs in response. So he decides to up his game. Smirking, Cade moves himself over just slightly, so that he's leaning over Scott, and slides an arm over his back. He keeps his fingers light, dragging them over Scott's ribs with deliberate strokes that make him squirm away, his muffled, sleepy laughter warming the room.

"N _oooo_ \--" Scott whines, but his complaint is half-hearted and Cade knows it. His smirk turns into a self-satisfied grin, and he leans in to press a kiss to Scott's cheek, getting a pleased hum in response.

"Okay, better." Scott cracks an eye open, looking up at Cade, his mouth drawn into a crooked smile.

"You're so lazy." Cade snorts, lifting his arm to let Scott turn onto his back. Once Scott settles, yawning, Cade lets himself lie back down, arms folded on Scott's chest, chin propped on top.

"Who can blame me for wanting to lie in bed with you?" Scott says, quirking an eyebrow. Cade just smiles, a little bashful, but entirely appreciative. Scott smooths a stray curl out of Cade's forehead then, fingers raking through his messy hair with a gentle sigh.

"I know you don't want to go." he adds, a few moments later.

"Yeah. But it's going to help you and the team, so... I'd be an idiot to refuse." Cade replies easily, drawing nonsense shapes over Scott's chest with a pointer finger.

"Huh, don't remember you ever saying that to the Alliance." Scott laughs quietly, a clear memory ghosting his features for a moment that Cade catches with perfect clarity. He was known as a bit of a hard-ass on Arcturus, and for good reason, probably.

"Because I usually told them to fuck off instead." Cade sniggers, mischief curving his smile for a second until it fades into fond recollection instead. Scott draws a finger carefully along Cade's jawline for a moment before he taps the tip of his nose with a smirk.

"Don't go stirring up trouble on the Nexus, okay?"

"Me? Cause trouble? That's unheard of." Cade rolls his eyes, snapping his teeth and making Scott pull away with a chuckle.

"Yeah. Troublemaker. That's you all over." Scott confirms, stretching out his arms with a muffled groan. Cade huffs a quiet laugh and sits up, letting Scott get up, finally. They both reluctantly get out of bed, pulling on clothes and complaining about various aches and pains built up from weeks of intense ground missions.

Eventually, they manage to pull themselves together enough to look presentable. Cade's fiddling with his omnibracelet when Scott calls his attention and he looks up to find Scott walking over to him.

"You know I wouldn't change you for the world, right?" Scott looks concerned, for some reason. Cade raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to say something, but Scott gets there before him. "You're a troublemaker, but you're _my_ troublemaker."

"Hm. Smooth talker." Cade rolls his eyes, slipping his arms around Scott's waist to pull him closer, and press a kiss to his forehead. He hears Scott's quiet chuckle and smiles to himself, releasing Scott with a sigh. Time to let him go and be Pathfinder for a while. Scott's smile is almost apologetic, but Cade understands - in his own way. Being Commander Shepard back in the Milky Way never left him much time for people, as much as he might have cared about them.

"Alright. Grab some coffee, hit the team brief, and then we'll head out." Scott says, to himself more than anything. He's shifting back into his careful design, armour settling just so - enough to appear open and honest, but never quite staying within reach. Cade's noticed how easily he shies away from those who do reach out, deflecting the topic and honing right onto something less personal.

Product of a past, Cade knows. Just as much as he is of his own.

Not much they can do about it, though. That's something they've both learnt by now, and it does them no good to dwell on it. They lock up their memories once again and step out of their little haven, and into the galley of the Tempest.

* * *

The Nexus is... actually pretty busy, these days. A far cry from the desolate mess they stumbled upon months ago. It reminds Cade of the Citadel, and he only hopes he doesn't have to see this place in ruins too.

"I hate crowds." Scott sighs, weaving his way through the throngs of people going about their day. It's not _quite_ ordinary, not yet, but enough has fallen into place for life on the Nexus to be routine by now. Less about survival from day to day, and more about preparing for a life outside of tomorrow.

It's a hopeful sight, and Cade keeps that close to heart.

"Just because you can't see over the salarians..." Cade snickers, enjoying the height advantage he has for the moment. Scott snorts, shooting Cade a deadpan look before he steps through a gap in the crowd and makes a bee-line for the tramway. Cade follows, easily keeping up.

They manage to catch a tram just before the doors close, slipping into the miniscule amount of free space in the tram. It's chock-full of visiting angara babbling away, praise and scorn floating about in equal measure for the aliens and their obsession with badly thought out infrastructure. Cade's all but pressed up against a tram wall, Scott's pointy elbow digging into his side.

"Wow. Used to be able to have a meaningful conversation in these things." Cade comments drily, earning a chuckle from Scott next to him. They're close enough that Cade can feel it more than he hears it. He's itching to just link their hands together and enjoy this, to enjoy being so close to him again, but that little nagging fear in the back of his mind won't leave him. Scott's the only real hope for a lot of people out here, and Cade doesn't want to be so selfish that he manages to fuck that up too.

After last night, though, he's struggling to stay in that frame of mind. Being selfish sounds great right now.

"Yeah, I think we upgraded." Scott says, and he shifts impossibly closer, easily fitting into the space at Cade's side. Cade laughs quietly, bracing himself as the tram slowly pulls into motion and the lights begin to flicker down the passage. In the spaces between the lights, Cade remembers fragments of conversations held between the two of them on these trams. A hesitant word, a gesture hidden by a brief moment of self-doubt, a fleeting glance. It spelled out a story that's been years in the making, they just didn't know it then.

"About time." Cade sighs. Next to him, he feels Scott fidgeting about, and then his cold fingers are linking with Cade's. He squeezes Cade's hand gently, looking up at him. He doesn't need to say anything for Cade to know what he means by that.

The rest of the ride passes quickly after that, both of them wrapped up in their own little orbit for as long as anonymity would allow them in the presence of the angara, who are more curious about the tram itself. Scott winds up talking about the _Vesaal_ for a bit, explaining how the angara share their time on Aya as best as they can. The thought is oddly calming; Cade's so used to the utter chaos of humanity in dire straits, dogfighting over every bit of land, that the concept is nearly lost on him. Scott's seen it firsthand, though, and with every little bit of information Scott delivers, Cade finds himself with a little more renewed hope for Andromeda.

Eventually, the tram comes to a stop. Scott's the first one out, tugging on Cade's hand for him to follow.

_"Welcome to the Hyperion."_ an artificial voice rolls out over the ship-wide comms as they walk, Scott outlining his ideas for the next few days. He talks with his hands, and Cade finds it hard not to start laughing every time Scott yanks their joined hands up to explain something, completely forgetting.

Above it all though, it surprises Cade how normal this feels. He's not anxious, or on edge waiting for somebody to say something. He's just comfortable, conversation settling easily between them as they make their way to SAM node. Scott only lets go of Cade when they reach the door to Alec's old room, and Scott sucks in a breath before he unlocks it.

"Dad left some audio logs behind. I've unlocked most of them." Scott says quietly as the door slides open and they step through. The room is barren, stark white and clinical in its design. The last time Cade was here, he remembers seeing a lot more guns on display.

"Thought I'd make the room more reflective of his shining personality." Scott's words are pointed, and Cade doesn't push the matter any further. Scott heads over to the desk, a cold trail in his wake when Cade follows. He hates coming here. Every reminder of a family that didn't belong to him was just another kick in the teeth, as far as Scott told him. Cade can't blame him for trying to shut it out.

"Here, Cade--" Scott swipes a hand over the holoscreen at the desk, bringing up a selection of logs. "There's a few. These ones talk about this benefactor, it's a good starting point."

Cade goes over, eyes narrowing as he tries to read the lines of data without overloading on information. Scott notices, quickly clearing away the stuff he doesn't need, and Cade is silently grateful for that.

"Alright. I'll give 'em a listen." Cade sits down in the chair, wheeling himself closer to take over from Scott.

"I have something for SAM to unlock, but I won't be long." Scott says, pushing away from the desk, a hand drifting over Cade's shoulder before his footsteps retreat out of the room. Cade waits for the door to slide shut again before he opens up the first audiolog. Moments later, Alec's voice filters out through the room, manufactured in cold blue light.

_"I had a strange meeting yesterday: I thought it would be with Jien Garson, who founded the Initiative, but it wasn't."_

Jien Garson? Cade's heard the name, briefly, in fleeting conversation and snippets that he's overheard from Tann. Nothing that stuck out. Apparently, she's plenty more important than Cade thought.

_"So I guess Jien's the visionary, the one who gets people excited about the project, drums up publicity. But then this 'benefactor' provides resources and money. And I mean a_ lot _of money."_

Cade's reminded of his own price tag. Two billion credits. If there's anybody out there with that kind of money to spare on an idea...

_"It's a little unusual, but everything about this project is."_

Cade sits back in his chair, resting his elbows on the arms and twisting his fingers together while he thinks. It's all too convenient. Too obvious to be Cerberus. But whoever this benefactor is, it's not somebody people seem to trust.

Or something.

Tann's the new Director. Therefore, he has to have a link to Jien. It's something to consider as Cade hits play on the next log.

_"I accepted the Initiative's offer. They're calling me a 'Pathfinder.' There's no other option left-- SAM will never happen without their help."_

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Alec." Cade groans, teeth grinding with barely contained frustration. "All this for an AI?"

The log continues.

_"There's something strange going on with this benefactor, but...Ellen's getting worse. I can't fail her."_

Cade chews absently on his lower lip as the words sink in. Ellen. SAM. Where's the connection? What would make a man grasp at the threads of something so astronomical, just for a chance of...

Just for a _chance_. Cade narrows his eyes, sitting up slowly. Ellen died. He remembers Scott telling him. Surely, there's no way--

His thoughts are disrupted by the sudden whir of the doors, unexpectedly, behind him. He turns to find Scott all but jogging over to him, staring right past him at the console.

"Scott?" Cade asks, concerned. Scott looks shaken, and it's even more obvious the closer he gets. Scott doesn't stop to respond though, instead, he's tapping frantically at the holo keyboard, working until something pops up on the visual and Cade tries to see what it is. It looks like more audio logs, but he can't be certain - Scott's moving too fast for him. Sighing, Cade reaches out, fingers wrapping around Scott's wrist and pulling him away, gently.

"You're shaking." Cade frowns, free hand catching Scott's other arm, pulling his attention away from the console. Sure enough, Scott's trembling underneath his grip, and his pulse is erratic underneath Cade's fingertips.

"Shock. It's just shock. I'll be fine." Scott sounds so mechanical, suddenly disjointed from himself. It's incredibly disconcerting.

"What happened?" Cade stands up, hands moving to cup Scott's face instead, trying to get his focus back. Eventually, those blue eyes meet his own, and Scott forces out a shuddering breath.

"Mom's alive. Dad's a fucking liar. My sister hates me. Nothing out of the ordinary, except maybe the fact that _mom's alive._ "

Well, shit.

"Oh, and it gets worse-- Jesus, _fuck_. I need to sit down." Scott moves out of Cade's grip, slumping into the chair with a groan, hand rubbing at his forehead.

"Hey, hey, slow down." Cade says gently, "Just take this one thing at a time, okay?"

"SAM was made for--" Scott tries to explain, but he just cuts himself off and sits there in silence, staring blankly at the floor.

"Alec knew the Initiative was his only chance to save your mother. He needed SAM. It adds up." Cade fills in the blank with what he's just heard from the logs. Scott nods weakly, confirming Cade's assumptions. The thought sits horribly, and Cade has to push it aside to carry on.

"Forget about everything else for a minute, Scott. Are _you_ okay?"

Scott thinks on his answer for a moment, licking his lips briefly. He sighs, shaking his head. No.

"Alright, what can I do?" Cade asks, "Right now, what can I do to help you?"

"I'm just so fucking _sick_ and _tired_ of people lying to me. It's constant. Tann, Addison, half of my crew, my own shitty family-- What is so hard about being honest?" Scott's shock is quickly manifesting into a cold, bitter anger. It practically sweeps through the room, putting a chill into the air. "I'm sorry, I'm not yelling at you, I'm just so--"

"Scott, it's okay." Cade says simply, "I know."

After that, Scott sits in silence for a minute, cooling off. His knuckles are white with how hard his fists are clenching, and Cade simply reaches for his hands, unfurling his fingers gently until Scott relaxes a little, and then his hands are gripping onto Cade's own again.

"There's... that wasn't the only thing I found, Cade." Scott admits quietly, "I- Alec spoke with this turian. Castis. Castis Vakarian. He said his son worked with you."

Cade isn't expecting to hear that name at all. He swallows audibly, eyes blown wide while his mind races, unable to pin down a thought to voice. He can see Garrus, mandibles flickering as he speaks, adjusting his damned visor that broke every other mission--

"Garrus." Cade confirms, not able to say much else.

"Castis said something about the Council not wanting to believe what you were telling them. I kind of blanked on the rest, Cade, I--"

"The Reapers." Cade cuts him off, and suddenly he's the one who's shaking. He can hear Sovereign, the sour note rattling through his mind with a flash of red that sparks along his skin. It triggers something, a memory, broken images distorted by noises he can't make out and shapes that don't make sense, strung along by the sound of a Reaper.

It's from Feros.

The Cipher.

Everything crashes through after that; Noveria, Ilos, Virmire. Memory shaped by dissonance, a story missing its ending.

Only, it isn't the ending that's missing.

It can't be. It ended six hundred years ago, whether Cade - whether Shepard - wanted it to or not; and he wasn't there for it. The ending exists, somewhere, in some fragmented corner of time. In memory that doesn't belong to him.

"I'm sorry, Cade." Scott tries bringing him back to the here and now, but Cade's lost somewhere in between, caught up in what might have been.

"They didn't make it, did they?" he asks quietly, jaw clenching. Scott just looks at him for a moment, for once not knowing what to say.

Cade supposes the silence is answer enough.


	47. Morior Invictus

Cade drops the pen he's been writing with, fingers numb, and he simply watches as the pen rolls off the metal table and falls to the floor. It makes a pathetic ring as it lands, and Cade sits back in his uncomfortable chair, scowling at nothing in particular.

It's been a week of this. He's tired. Exhausted, even - he hasn't slept a full night's sleep since being here. He's not sure when he last ate, but the gnawing feeling in his gut hints that he might have left it a little too long. Cade is falling to pieces and he knows it. His thoughts are scattered down on the ink-blotted page in front of him, line after line scribbled out with a pen that's been pressed too hard into the paper, leaving indents for every mistake.

There's disorder in every direction he looks.

"Shepard, may I suggest you take a break?" SAM's cool voice breaks the dissonance of the room, pulling Cade's attention to the way it cools his skin and soothes his fraying nerves. Sighing, Cade folds his arms tight across his chest and glances briefly upwards.

"I'm running out of time, SAM." Cade says. And it's true - Scott's waiting for answers that he can't find, and with every step Scott takes towards Meridian, it feels like Cade's taking a step further away from where he wants to be. The sooner he can figure this out, the sooner he can get back to the Tempest. _Back to Scott_ , is what he really means.

"In your current state, there is a projected sixty-three percent reduction in efficiency."

Cade snorts, almost thinking SAM's just made that up. He quirks an eyebrow, unfolding his arms to stand up and stretch his legs with a muffled groan.

"Did you just make that up?"

There's a beat of silence. Cade shakes his head and reaches down to pick up the pen from the floor, setting it back onto the table by the time SAM replies.

"I did not, Shepard."

Cade rolls his eyes, but doesn't say anything. In fairness to the AI, SAM's been a big help this past week. He's had more panic attacks than he cares to admit, and SAM's probably the only reason Cade hasn't landed himself in the medbay with Dr. Carlisle peering at him over a datapad. He's had enough of that with Lexi.

Glancing around the too-big apartment, Cade clicks his tongue as he thinks what to do next. SAM's right - he needs a break, but his hyperfixation is front and centre and not going anywhere anytime soon. The couch looks inviting, but Cade knows he doesn't want to sleep. He'll only wake up in a cold sweat with fragments of a past clinging onto his reality. It's all he's done for the last week, and Cade would rather just limit that to necessity.

"There are various forms of sustenance available in this apartment, Shepard." SAM informs, voice playing like cold metal over skin. Cade nods, knowing the gesture is meaningless to SAM, and makes his way over to the kitchen. He raids a few cupboards, finding nothing appealing. Everything is in pieces, ingredients to put together that he can't figure out-- doesn't have _time_ to figure out.

"SAM, something quick. I'm running low on energy." Cade mumbles, pausing for a moment to take a breath and try to focus.

"Can you specify, Shepard?"

"It's like... ugh, what did Scott call it? Fuckin'... fork theory?" Cade pushes away from the cupboards, growing increasingly frustrated with his inability to think straight.

"Spoon theory." SAM corrects him.

"Yes! That!" Cade hisses, bracing himself on a nearby counter. SAM is quiet for a moment, and Cade can practically feel the way the AI is working through him, soldering every splintering edge with a precision only SAM could manage. It's enough for Cade to calm down a little, to begin to breathe normally again.

"Cereals will provide you with essential energy with minimal effort. The third cupboard." SAM instructs, and Cade follows, opening the third cupboard to find sealed cereal boxes. He rifles through the selection, eyes landing on the obnoxious, yet familiar Blast-Ohs! logo. That'll do. Cade pulls the box out, tearing open the tab to reach in and grab a handful of the cereal. Not exactly the most luxurious thing out there, but SAM's right - it'll give him the energy he needs, and it's not something he has to think too hard about.

Cade wanders back over to the small table set just outside the kitchen area, adorned with scraps of paper, datapads, crumpled up pages and a holo-map of the Nexus, beeping away softly. He nudges the leg of the chair with his foot, pulling it out so he can sit back down while chewing his way through the - quite frankly - tasteless cardboard he's shoveling in his mouth.

With his mind now a little more at ease, he looks over his hasty scribbles, filling pages of the notebook in front of him. There's a line through every possible name he's jotted down, every lead he's tried to follow. Tann. Reyes. Cerberus. None of them add up, there's too much disparity between what Cade knows and what _they_ don't - or in the case of Cerberus, it's too much of a gamble. He had SAM keeping an eye on the usual giveaways just in case they turned out to be lying, but SAM found no trace of foul play there either.

And for every line that tells him he was wrong, Cade can only follow them to where they point, and eventually finds himself with only one real option left.

"SAM. I _know_ Alec left a dossier." Cade says slowly, cereal box now sat on an empty chair, forgotten about as his hyperfixation returns. His hands hover over the scattered array of information on the tabletop, brushing aside the useless, dead-end data to find the pen he'd dropped earlier.

SAM doesn't answer.

Cade has the uneasy feeling that there's something blocking the AI. _Someone_.

"SAM, I need to activate the protocol." Cade pushes, "Code access: _morior invictus_ , Alec Ryder."

There's a faint crackle and hum, the tension suddenly strung up in the air around him. He can feel it hanging over his shoulders, brushing the back of his neck where his implant sits, and it starts to feel like a noose when Cade thinks about it too much.

"Dossier unlocked, Shepard." SAM confirms, and it's almost a relief to hear the voice again. "Alec placed blocks on my memory regarding the protocol. I am now able to access these logs and provide them to you."

Cade just hopes there's something worth finding. If he believed in ghosts, he'd be a little more convinced that Alec was watching his every move.

"Thanks, SAM." Cade murmurs, pulling the datapad on the table towards him. "Can you transfer the files to me or are they location locked?"

"You have full control of the dossier now, Shepard. I can do as you wish." SAM informs Cade, and that gives him pause. _Full_ control? That's not right. Cade sets the datapad down slowly.

"That's not standard." Cade says to SAM, pointedly.

"Do you understand the nature of your implant, Shepard?" SAM asks cooly, and Cade would be lying if he said that the question didn't unnerve him something fierce. Why is SAM asking this? Cade shakes his head and focuses on delivering an answer, albeit a shaky one.

"It... it's an extension of my biotic implant, right? That's what they told me."

Another pause.

Another few seconds too long for Cade. For every step he takes towards regaining his focus, it seems he winds up three steps back from where he started. SAM should be helping-

"Shepard, by activating the protocol, you also removed blocks on my memory surrounding my upload."

Oh. That... _that_ changes things. Cade feels the blood rushing past his ears as his thoughts scatter into meaningless particles on a haywire current. What does SAM know?

"Tell me." Cade blurts out, eyes wide, breathing erratic, and he can feel his nails digging into his thigh, willing himself to stay seated and not have a complete meltdown.

"Alec lived to prove that the impossible could be achieved. It seems that idea also extended to you." SAM continues, every even-toned word nothing short of jarring, "I am your SAM, as I was Alec's, and as I am to Scott."

Cade sucks in a breath, sharp and almost painful. He can't quite comprehend what SAM is saying.

"What does that mean?" he asks quietly, through gritted teeth.

"I am able to significantly enhance your tactical ability, situational awareness and problem solving. I see and feel as you do. However, I believe Alec may have significantly underestimated your potential response."

"Oh, sure, Alec Ryder just _forgot_ that I spent the better part of a year fighting AI to try and deflect a Reaper invasion, and then he stuck a fucking AI _in my head!_ " Cade snarls, voice pitching with barely contained rage as everything starts to settle into place. Of course, of _course_ Alec would pull something like this. He knew he wasn't going to suffer the consequences - what did it matter to him? Alec just wanted to play a _deus ex machina_ card on someone who wouldn't know any better until it was way too late.

Just to deny the impossible.

"Shepard, I will not utilize this connection without your command. You are not a Pathfinder." SAM tries to remind Cade, but Cade isn't in the mood to listen.

"No, you're right - I'm _not_ a Pathfinder! I'm Commander Shepard, or I was, and I don't need an AI to be--" Cade's standing now, table knocked off-kilter, datapad dangerously close to falling off the edge. Cade stops himself when he sees the first flicker of blue across his skin, curling around his fist in white, and the smell of ozone hits.

"Oh, Jesus." Cade mutters, rage dispersing in an instant, and he drops his gaze to the ground, shoulders slumping. "That's what the Archon wants, isn't it? That's why he--"

"I was unable to determine the Archon's intentions aboard his command ship, and I have no new data to examine." SAM interrupts, and Cade can feel the AI working at his nerves again, soothing, stringing them back into their correct shape. "Shepard, I am here to assist. I will not make any changes without your knowledge."

"You're calming me down, SAM. I didn't ask you to--"

"Should I stop?"

_"No."_

Cade slumps back into his seat, heaving out a breath. He rests his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands as he waits for his heart to stop pounding against his ribcage. SAM works quickly, and as angry as Cade is, he's grateful that SAM is there to... help. The shock is beginning to ebb away, leaving a cold understanding in its wake. Nothing will change. SAM won't do anything unless Cade asks. Just like they've done up until now.

It's okay, he reminds himself. It's okay.

"Is there anything I can do, Shepard?" SAM's voice somehow sounds quieter now, and Cade absently wonders whether his outburst had anything to do with it. Stowing the thought away, he tangles his fingers into his hair and tugs, just lightly, fingers scratching at his scalp to distract himself.

"I didn't mean to... uh, I-" Cade's words are half-formed and senseless, so he stops trying.

"Your wellbeing is my priority. I cannot learn or thrive without your co-operation." SAM reminds Cade, and Cade finally lets that sink in.

"It's not you I don't trust. It's Alec." Cade mutters, eventually, sitting upright again. He slumps back against the hard, uncomfortable chair, eyes closed as he focuses on his breathing. He didn't come here to have constant breakdowns over things completely out of his control, and that feels like all he's done.

He needs to get back to work.

"Alright, SAM. Let's... let's just finish what we came here to do." Cade murmurs then, cracking an eye open. He looks at the datapad hanging halfway off the table. "SAM, can you run a search on the dossier? Anything related to the Andromeda Initiative, Jien Garson, or mentions of the benefactor."

"I can." SAM confirms, "Scanning. I will upload the relevant data to your datapad."

Cade reaches forward, mostly clear-headed and open-eyed now. He picks up the datapad and stands, wandering around the room as the information trickles in, too impatient to sit any longer. At first, there's nothing significant - just small logs that repeat most of what he's heard from the ones that Scott's shown him. Cade's beginning to think it's another dead end, hope dwindling with every new datapoint he receives until SAM starts to highlight something. A word. It's repeated throughout almost every log relating to Jien, but Cade can't place any meaning to it.

Fulcrum.

The word is familiar in its sound, like somebody's said it to him before. He thinks it might have been Scott. There's a faint recollection of conversation, but it must have been on a bad day, because Cade can't pin it down.

"Fulcrum was mentioned by Scott several weeks ago. He had it saved as a passcode. It triggered Alec's final memory." SAM answers for him, reading the question easily. Cade presses his lips together, brow furrowed as he thinks. Why use that word, specifically?

"Can you clarify it, SAM? Fulcrum?" Cade asks, his pacing slowing down as he turns his focus to the information on the screen in his hands.

"A noun. Something that plays a central role in an activity, event, or situation."

Cade scratches at his chin, week-old stubble making the sensation a little uncomfortable. The thought is there, though, taking shape right behind his eyes. Central. A core. A driving force.

"It refers to Ellen, doesn't it? It can't be relevant. Unless..." Cade voices his thoughts out loud, pacing starting back up again. "N7s do love their red tape. A cover for a cover. Alec had an idea, but he couldn't say it without putting himself right in the firing line like Jien did."

"Then we must assume the benefactor is operational, or has agents available on the Nexus to carry out orders. Jien Garson's murder, for example." SAM adds, and Cade clicks his fingers, idea finalizing on the tip of his tongue but not quite there.

"Organics can't be everywhere at once, can they, SAM?" Cade drops the datapad onto the couch as he passes, and he reaches down to grab his jacket, strewn over the arm.

"Then you are suggesting--"

"No, I'm _saying_ that our friend isn't someone with a name and a living, breathing facade." Cade chuckles grimly; the realization isn't funny in the slightest, and in truth, it terrifies him a little to even consider the idea, but it's the only option he has left. "I'm _saying_ that synthetic life is far more advanced than we thought possible, thanks to people like Alec, and whatever the benefactor is..."

Cade pauses mid-sentence to pull his jacket on, and he lingers by the door of the apartment separating him from the bustle of the Nexus outside. There's only one thing at the centre of this station, only one thing keeping the Nexus going. The potential for life in Andromeda is completely reliant on the Arks. The heart of their civilization.

Nothing in Andromeda has been a mistake. Everything has been painstakingly orchestrated, guided along equations that only ever add up to one single outcome. Every variable, so carefully shaped in the nature of human chaos that it's now obvious how artificial its foundations are. Cade can feel it, even in himself. He feels more machine than man, and that isn't a mistake either.

The fact that Hyperion was the first Ark to dock? The first part of the heart to form? The first piece of a puzzle warped beyond human comprehension?

Not at a mistake at all.

Glancing up, Cade imagines SAM is waiting for him to finish what he was saying, so he obliges:

"They're hiding in plain sight."


	48. Reboot

As soon as Cade steps foot on the Hyperion, everything seems to string out into a vast expanse in front of him. Sound stops, motion follows soon after. Everything is slowed, warped to a degree where Cade feels like he can reach out and shape the tangible planes of reality with his own hands. He knows that isn't his doing.

"SAM, what are you..." Cade tries to ask, but he doesn't finish. In a synaptic instant, the world regains its shape, like elastic snapping back into its original form. It makes Cade flinch as the Hyperion's usual comm chatter plays normally again.

"Apologies, Shepard. I boosted the efficiency of your receptors to a significant degree. It allowed me to view the Hyperion objectively - I believe your analogous phrase would be 'in the flesh.'" SAM explains as Cade regains his sense of urgency, picking up speed in his walk to SAM node. He quells the sudden voice in the back of his mind that spells out his concern for him - SAM is taking too much control, too quickly. It's like SAM is panicking. Cade doesn't want to ask, but the notion sits uncomfortably, made worse every time he feels SAM working through him. Shaking his head, Cade forces himself to pay attention to where he's going, at which point he realizes he doesn't know why--

Why is he going to SAM node?

"SAM node... well, if we're looking for a central point, I guess you would be it, huh?" Cade voices his thoughts aloud, even though he doesn't need to. Makes him feel a little more connected to his version of reality, which he's slowly losing his grasp on with every tweak that SAM continues to make. He licks his lips nervously, ducking his gaze to avoid the looks he's getting from various crewmembers and civilians, probably wondering why the hell he looks so shifty. He knows his stride is turning quickly unnatural, more and more mechanical as his thoughts shift to autopilot instead of lingering too close to a rabbithole he doesn't want to fall down.

Cade needs SAM. Now is not the time to question why.

"SAM node is unlocked for you." SAM tells him smoothly, tone regulated, a consistent buffer against the encroaching anxiety playing over Cade's every last nerve.

The path ahead is mostly clear, and Cade breaks into a half-run, already wasting too much time. He diverts down the corridor to SAM node, narrowly dodging a shipworker with a mumbled apology as he rounds the corner. He has his omnitool ready to hit the access panel when he reaches the door, and once inside, he finds himself breathing hard, back against the cold metal of the closed door.

"Are you alright, Shepard?" SAM asks, and Cade almost wants to laugh. Of course he isn't alright. He's potentially about to uncover some bullshit conspiracy that carries dire implications that Andromeda will suffer exactly the same fate as they did back home. He's already got too many lives notched in red on his hands, and they're painfully heavy to carry. He doesn't need to add any more.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Cade replies tersely, pushing himself off the door as he speaks. He sets his eyes on the calming holo of SAM up ahead, spilling out hues of blue and gold in regular, rhythmic motion. It casts a softer light across the room that makes Cade feel a little more at ease the further he steps in.

"Shepard, I can now utilize your implant to its full potential. You may recall Scott speaking about his memories, ones that Alec had placed blocks on." SAM sounds again, and Cade stops to listen, leaning against the rail that divides the room up. Sparing an upwards glance out of habit, he quirks an eyebrow.

"Yeah. What about them?" Cade's dealt with the aftermath of some of those memories from Scott, and it's not something he wants to repeat.

"There is a memory containing a log from 2186, pulled from the Normandy SR2." SAM explains, "If you wish, you can see this memory using your implant."

Cade just feels cold, inside and out. It doesn't surprise him that they rebuilt the Normandy, or that such a log exists, but it pushes him a little too close to a past he's still trying to leave behind. Part of him desperately wants to see this memory, just once. Just to know...

"Any names recorded, SAM?" Cade asks, carefully.

"It is under Liara T'soni's personal log, however, it appears to be a memory that involves several members of the crew."

"Names, SAM." Cade needs to know.

"There are mentions of your former crew. Notable entries are filed under Commander Kaidan Alenko's personal log."

"Commander?" Cade breathes out, not expecting to hear that title placed so brazenly in front of Kaidan's name. He thinks about it - maybe for a little too long - and it begins to make sense. Kaidan was a hell of a soldier, a skilled sentinel with sound tactics, and a far better man than Cade ever pretended to be.

"Yes, Shepard. Would you like to view the memory?" SAM brings him back to their original point, and Cade chews at his lower lip while he considers the question again. It would be so easy just to say yes, and be transported back to a time he knew with people he cared about for reasons outside of him being reliant on them for survival.

But the way he is right now, alone, desperately clinging onto SAM like a lifeline, trying to navigate his way through a galaxy that continues to elude him? Cade doesn't think he'd come back from that memory. Not for a long time.

Scott needs him. That's not a question he's willing to debate.

He can't do it.

"No. I- No. I can't do that, SAM." Cade says quietly. "Not now, at least. Maybe someday."

"Very well, Shepard." SAM acquiesces, and Cade can't quite figure out why he feels like SAM almost sounds reluctant. Shaking his head, he forces out a slow breath and does his best to clear his mind. He needs to focus here. Big time.

Almost guided by SAM's holo-light, Cade makes his way around the room, slowly and carefully. He looks over every panel, follows every line, every curve, every painstakingly crafted detail that could spell out the tiniest hint if he looks hard enough. Nothing solidifies into anything more than vague possibility, though, even when Cade reaches out, pressing his palm flat against cold metal as if that would help it feel real.

"Fulcrum... why 'Fulcrum', Alec?" Cade spills his thoughts to the room, barely a whisper. He stands upright from where he's been kneeling beside a panel, and takes a few steps back towards the centre of the room. His hands settle at his hips and he turns, casting a thoughtful glance over the rest of the room. Nothing comes to mind. Every thought he has slips right through him like a ghost, and he can't help but feel that there's something else in the room with him.

 _"Fulcrum."_ Cade says it out loud this time, clearly, without hesitation or distraction. Nothing happens.

"Okay, yeah, that works in too many movies, I don't know why I tried that." Cade snorts, almost laughing at how stupid the idea seems now, and drops his gaze to the floor while he regards his next move. While he's lost in a fresh maze of useless thought, he feels a tremor run through the floor beneath his feet. That stops him in his tracks. Another tremor follows soon after, stronger this time.

"What-- SAM, what's happening?" Cade asks, words clipped with quiet anxiety. The AI doesn't respond, and that sends a fresh chill through him. Swallowing, Cade braces himself for the next tremor, but it never arrives - instead, the guard rail separating the main space from SAM's holo descends into the floor, disassembling, leaving a free path to SAM's main node. Cade frowns. That's... unexpected. Was it triggered by him, or did SAM do something?

"SAM? Come on, help me out here." Cade feels silly for pleading the way he is, but he really does need SAM right now. Despite his reservations, he finds himself taking a few careful steps towards the holo, because he can see a panel underneath marked with a distinct edge.

"One moment, Shepard. I am experiencing unexpected interference." SAM cuts in, but the voice crackles out just as quickly as it had sounded. Cade glances up sharply, hissing a complaint that doesn't manage to take the shape of words. SAM is out, and Cade is on his own. Figures. Turning his attention back to the unusual panel, Cade gets close enough to kneel down and inspect the frame. He finds no edge to grip, no way to remove it without brute force - and he isn't quite at that point of desperation yet.

_Yet._

"You're hiding something." Cade says to the panel, completely seriously. A ship this size wouldn't bother operating remote panels, so Cade rules out a switch. Voice activated? Too obvious to slip into a blueprint. It needs to be something simple, something discreet. Something the Benefactor could suggest without suspicion.

"Maybe..." Cade murmurs to himself, thoughts now half-spoken, half-left for his own mind to unravel. He leans forward and presses a palm flat over the panel before pushing down gently. There's a hiss of air, and then the plate seems to shift under his touch. The edges disappear underneath the panel, which slowly retracts under the adjacent flooring with a grating whir. Cade removes his hand, the sensation making his stomach twist uncomfortably. He sits back and watches, a shroud of unease settling over his shoulders and growing tighter with every second. Eventually, the whirring stops, and the panel is fully exposed, but Cade is almost afraid to look.

Another tremor passes beneath him, but Cade thinks nothing of it this time, too focused on the mystery sat in front of him. He sucks in a breath and leans forward again, close enough to look into the space. It's a mess of wires at first glance, but Cade knows there has to be something more to this. He lies down carefully on his front and reaches down, separating the wires he can see. They're a clumped up tangle, he can't tell where they headed to or coming from, and splitting them isn't an option - not when the Hyperion could be affected.

"SAM, if you're there, I really, _really_ need your help." Cade grimaces as he reaches a little too far, pulling his bad shoulder in the process. Suppressing a string of curses, Cade yanks his arm back and heaves out a sigh through gritted teeth.

Where the hell is SAM?

"Shepard--" SAM's cool voice picks up, at last, and Cade doesn't waste any time.

"SAM, I need a look at these wires."

SAM goes silent again, and Cade lets out a yell of frustration, sitting up abruptly and pulling half the wires as he does. The wires pop out - they're fake, not attached to anything, and Cade's left holding a clump in his hand, utterly bewildered for a second before he happens to glance back down.

"Oh, no. _No_. No- " Cade drops the wires, "This isn't happening. No."

Every edge of him is pulled tight with a profound fear, warped by a knowledge he holds close to heart. Cade knows exactly what he's looking at, but his mind won't allow it. Every quiet fear he's held ever since knowing that the Reapers destroyed his home are coming to light, and it's all he can do to ignore them.

That said, it's almost impossible to ignore something when it's staring right back at you.

At that moment, a much bigger tremor rocks through the room, big enough to throw Cade off balance. He's left scrabbling for purchase, fear splintering as his ire starts to rise.

"SAM--"

"Shepard, the Hyperion is no longer docked." SAM chooses the most opportune moment to pipe up again, "The kett have boarded. They are sweeping the main deck. I recommend haste."

"Oh- what the fuck!?" Cade gets to his knees, shooting a frantic glance to the open panel and then over to the door, securely locked. "Oh, shit. SAM. Come on. _Not now_."

"There are firearms available within Alec's room. I have unlocked the door." SAM doesn't falter, and Cade finds himself getting to his feet, unsteady as he half-walks, half-stumbles towards the door.

"First, can you tell me why there's a _fucking geth_ buried in the Hyperion?" Cade hisses angrily, bracing himself against the door as he feels his hands shaking, anxiety coursing right through him. He can barely hear over the rush of blood past his ears, and the way his heart is pounding erratically in his chest. His mouth is dry, words turning hoarser with every desperate question he throws to SAM.

"I have no data available to assist currently, Shepard. My priority is to keep you safe." SAM's voice is doing its usual work, playing over Cade's nerves like a lyre, tweaking out a tune that calms him down bit by little bit. Cade growls out a curse, steeling himself, pushing the thought of the geth lying dormant beneath this floor to the back of his mind as he swipes at the access console, opening the door.

"Why are the kett here?" Cade clings on to what he knows best, pulling his Commander facade back into place as he steps outside. The metaphorical armour fits him perfectly, and right now, he needs it.

"It appears that Scott has found Meridian." SAM informs, "The Archon has been following him."

The Archon? Shit. Cade swallows back his fear and pushes onwards, striding towards Alec's room with renewed purpose. The doors slide open, and he looks around, finding no sign of the firearms SAM promised. Then he remembers Scott took them down.

"Where did--"

"The storage box." SAM directs Cade to the footlocker by the bed. Cade rushes over and yanks the lid open, finding an array of guns thrown carelessly into storage. He imagines Scott didn't think much of them at the time. Pushing the thought aside, Cade reaches for a distinctive pistol branded with the familiar red of N7. Eagle variant. Good enough, he decides, slamming the lid shut and quickly getting to his feet.

"Shepard, they are looking for you." SAM warns him then, and Cade stops in his tracks. For him? He narrows his eyes and glances up.

"Why?"

SAM doesn't reply, and then Cade hears the first round of live fire from down the hallway. It spurs him into action, breaking into a run down the corridor to make his way onto the main deck. When he gets there, he doesn't know where to start - the kett are swarming the place, energy blasts narrowly missing Cade as he runs, and it's all he can do to return fire blindly as he rushes for cover.

"SAM, _why_ are they looking for me?" Cade tries again, crouched behind overturned crates as gunfire encroaches on his position. He thinks he knows why, but he's a little afraid to voice it. But the longer he waits, the louder the gunfire grows and Cade loses hope for SAM replying anytime soon. He stifles a growl and leaps out, flinging a biotic shockwave along the ground towards a group of approach kett, blue curling around his fist like a second skin. The ozone scent is heavy around him, and the air snaps as he moves. It's comforting, in a way.

Or it is, until SAM speaks again.

"Shepard, the Pathfinder needs your help."

Cade starts running again, and he doesn't even know where his feet are taking him. He just knows he has to move. He _has_ to.

"Scott's on Meridian, what's happening?"

A beat of silence follows, and it cuts right through Cade like nothing else.

"The Archon has severed my link to Scott's implant." SAM tells him in, tone unforgivably synthetic in that moment, "If basic function isn't manually restored, he will die."

_"What?"_

The words don't make sense. They don't form a sentence that Cade has ever had to put together. They don't fit. It hits him like a glitch to the system, tripping him for a second until a bullet flies past his arm, just grazing the flesh enough to make him realize he can't stay out here.

"Caderyn, please. Proceed to the depot. I will guide you." SAM uses his name for the first time, and it's enough to get Cade moving again. There's a thousand questions running behind Cade's eyes, and it's all he can see - everything else is a blur, white noise, static. Meaningless.

"The Archon isn't stealing the Hyperion. He wants you and me." SAM continues his explanation, "Your implant is the same as the Pathfinder's. He'll use us to control Meridian, and Scott will die."

"Stop _saying_ that!" Cade hisses, ducking down another corridor as fast as he can. He vaguely knows where he's going, but that's more SAM's doing than his own.

"Our connection is vital to his survival, Caderyn." SAM almost sounds remorseful in that instant, even if Cade knows that isn't possible, "I took over too much of his implant. Losing me will--"

"I get it! Stop saying it!" Cade breaks into a run, entering the depot where the communication hub is located. His fingers curl tightly around the grip of his pistol, arm moving in mechanical motion to land a few shots to the kett ahead of him. Running past their bodies on the ground, he shoulders another grunt out of the way with a sharp growl before sprinting down the corridor to the next set of doors.

They take too long to open, Cade thinks, and he bursts through as soon as there's enough of a gap. A figure almost collides right into him, but Cade manages to reach out and stop them in time.

"Shepard!"

Cade frowns, faint recognition lighting up some obscure corner of his mind as he regards the woman looking back at him. Captain Dunn.

"I need to get to the comm override!" Cade says, letting her go. Dunn shakes her head, pushing them both into cover as more kett flood through the doors on the opposite side of the room.

"You can't, you'll get overrun."

"Give me another route then!" Cade argues, breathing hard as he tries to stave off his panic. Dunn just looks at him for a moment before relenting, pointing out an access route he can take. He gives her a wordless look of thanks before taking off, throwing another shockwave at the kett clustered by the door.

"SAM, what next?" Cade asks as he slips through another set of doors, landing a few more shots at the kett ahead.

"You need to manually reboot the signal. It will reset Scott's implant." SAM says simply, and Cade almost balks. That sounds way too dangerous--

"Alright, okay -- we're here." Cade knows he doesn't have any other choice as he finally makes it to the comm hub, rushing over to a console. The place is free of kett for the moment, but Cade has a feeling that isn't going to last very long.

"Just one pulse, Caderyn. That's all he needs." SAM instructs, and Cade stares at the console in front of him, hand hovering over the trigger. If this doesn't work, if this-- if Scott doesn't come back...

He punches in the command.

"The Archon will know where I am." Cade murmurs, mostly to himself, but there's no way he can hide from that.

"I am sorry." SAM says, and Cade just looks up. He can hear the alien footsteps drawing closer, rushing down the corridor towards the hub. There's too many to distinguish a certain number. Too many to fight.

There's no way out.

"Just get him out of there alive, SAM." Cade pleads, and then the guttural words of the kett fill the room behind him. He turns, slowly, hand still clutching onto the pistol which is now completely useless in the face of the fully armed guard now blocking his only exit. He looks them over once, meeting each of their dead stares in turn. One grunt steps forward, gun primed and aimed squarely at his head.

He's trapped. Alone. Cut off from SAM, with no way of knowing what's going on halfway across the galaxy. Every single instinct is screaming at him to fight, to tear his way out of there like he did on Torfan years ago, to leave a trail in his wake that would stain the stars for eternity.

But that was then. A different time. A different life. Andromeda is a new story, a starting line, his zero hour. Cade can't afford to keep holding on, not when Scott's life is at stake.

He lets go, and the gun in his hand clatters to the floor.


	49. Connection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of your final chapter!! God, this thing is finally coming to a close and I can't begin to explain how wonderful this entire experience has been. Thank you so much for sticking with Zero Hour all this way, and I hope I can give you the end it deserves, and the one you've been waiting for <3

"Beautiful, isn't it? This weapon?" The Archon's voice crawls over Cade's skin, every broken syllable marked by a cold snap up his spine as the Archon pulls, just slightly, at his connection to the transmitter sitting beneath Cade's skin. It's extremely uncomfortable, like fingers prodding at the base of his skull, and it makes him squirm in his seat with a grimace and a growl.

"It created life, and yet, only _I_ see its full potential--and I even have the means to achieve it." The Archon turns and lands his black, beady gaze on Cade, who forces himself to stop fidgeting and stare right back. "Using you."

Cade doesn't flinch as the Archon steps closer, ignoring Dunn for the moment as he turns his full attention to his prize capture.

"I saw you from my flagship - in the Pathfinder's memories. You have an implant... and the connection."

That's a pointed statement if there ever was one. Cade glares up at the Archon, gold unwavering in the face of such dark prospects. That transmitter... what kind of information was the Archon getting? Just how many weaknesses is the Archon about to exploit? Cade lets the realization sink in slowly, fingers gripping the arms of the chair with renewed intensity as each thought takes hold.

"With that connection, I'll take Meridian." The Archon remains undeterred, ugly words from an ugly mouth that sneers and snarls with primal grace, "And Heleus will surrender. Or burn." he emphasises the last part with a narrowed glance over his shoulder as the Hyperion commlink beeps. As the Archon makes to walk over to the noise, Cade lets his words slip through his gritted teeth.

"You'll get nothing from me." Cade tells him, low and sharp. His words are the only weapons he has at hand, and Cade knows it. He does everything he can to make the most of them. Nodding towards the commlink, Cade digs the knife a little deeper. "And you won't get past him."

The Archon knows exactly who Cade is referring to. A twisted image of a smile passes his face as he turns away.

"We'll know soon enough, because your Pathfinder is already here."

Sure enough, when Cade looks up and out of the viewport stretching around the bridge, he sees the familiar crackle of light that precedes an FTL jump. There's hundreds, dotted across the bleak canvas of space ahead of them. Each little spark is enough to ignite a little more hope.

Only a little, but Cade knows that's been more than enough before. Closing his eyes, Cade exhales sharply. His fingers curl a little tighter, fingerpads pressed hard against the smooth metal underhand, and he focuses on his breathing for a moment. He can't afford to lose it now, not when there's so much at stake.

"You continue to defy your limitations." The Archon's voice sounds again, but it's directed elsewhere this time. Cade opens his eyes and forces himself to watch, finding the Archon stood idly by the commlink in a mockery of where Dunn should be. He feels the Captain fidgeting next to him and spares her a glance, trying to reassure her, somehow. In reality, it feels like she's the one who's more in control here as she manages to nod subtly back at Cade, a silent confirmation that she's as okay as she can be right now. Cade turns back to the Archon, just as a familiar sound reaches his ears.

 _"Cade. Are you okay?"_ Scott's voice is unmistakably clear, bright blue in the Archon's ugly haze. It's a lifeline. Instantly, Cade feels his chest expand, free of its sudden restrains. He sucks in another breath and swallows, trying to speak as he loosens his white-knuckle grip from the arms of the chair.

"I'm fine. Can't speak for the big guy, though." Cade's snark fills in the blanks, facade slipping into place as he recovers. "He's hell-bent on using Meridian as a glorified weapon of mass destruction if we don't submit. That's why he took me and SAM."

 _"To use you. I got it."_ Scott's confidence is unwavering, even in those static tones.

"You say that as if I should feel guilty." The Archon snarls, barely turning to grace Cade with a glance. "Exaltation is a gift. Those that can't see it deserve to die."

The way he speaks is infuriating. Cade wants nothing more than to throw a solid right hook and be done with his stupid posturing, but the transmitter is making him think twice about that idea. He doesn't know just how much insight the Archon has.

"You still command Remnant, but that began with the SAM and the implant." The Archon turns back to the commlink, "And now I have both. I no longer need you, Pathfinder, but since you insist on interfering... I'll give you my full attention."

The link goes dead, and Cade feels inexplicably cold. He stares out of the viewport, watching as the ships scatter from the Kett approach. He manages to pick out the vague, yet familiar shape of the Tempest in-between the stars, following its trail closer and closer to... the Scourge? What are they doing? That's too close. That's _way_ too close. He sees flashes of the Normandy in flames behind his eyes when he blinks, and he sits upright, feet planted solidly on the floor as if that would anchor him.

Somehow, the Tempest slices through the Scourge like nothing, but the fiery explosions in its wake spell out the fate of the few kett ships that had followed. Cade heaves a sigh of relief as the Tempest clears the Scourge and returns to open space.

 _"Archon!"_ Scott's voice crackles back over the commlink, and Cade almost smiles. Stubborn. _"Don't blame your people -- this clusterfuck is all you! I'm not playing your games anymore."_

The Archon is quiet for a blessed moment before he steps away from the commlink with a sigh. "You wish to force my hand. So be it."

Cade watches as the Archon turns back to him, walking over now with renewed purpose, each heavy footstep sparking up a wave of fear that runs down Cade's spine like nails on a blackboard. It's an unforgiving screech in the back of his mind, amplified by whatever hold the Archon has on him.

"Unlike you and the Pathfinder, I do not require an implant." The Archon speaks, slowly, pointedly, eyes locking on Cade like a hunter marks its prey. Cade is only vaguely aware of the Archon's 'eye' floating over his shoulder, finding himself completely unable to look away from the Archon's intense glare as he finishes his explanation. "I have yours."

Cade's vision is drowned in red for a brief flash, and he can't blink. He's locked in place, shoulders flat against the cold metal back of the chair, hands back to where they were, gripping the arms with painful intensity. At first, the red is nothing - just a momentary distraction of vision. Cade can handle it.

He isn't expecting red to become... a _feeling_. It's all over his skin, heating up, starting to burn. He's shaking with the effort of holding himself in place, because everything is screaming at him to move. Cade groans, cold sweat beading at the back of his neck in harsh contrast to the heat of the red light roving over him, but he can handle that too. Just about.

It's only when the red seeps in that it finally becomes unbearable. It's slow at first, tendrils creeping in behind his eyes, through his nose and mouth, curling around his throat like reverent fingers looking for purchase. He can feel SAM desperately trying to fight the red away, blue sparking underneath his skin, no longer smoothing across each synaptic instant - instead, each pulse sparks a wave of undulating agony that jolts Cade to the bone. After that, every second is warped by fresh torment upheld with mechanical precision. He can't hold back the scream that slips out, and then red turns into blinding white.

* * *

 

Cade barely recognizes the sensation of his stomach dropping as his consciousness returns in broken waves, bit by bit, piecing his system back together. He can all but feel the synthetic lights glowing as his body reboots, each scar lighting faintly as he regains feeling. It takes him a few moments more to notice the Archon's talons digging firmly into his left shoulder, his feet dragging along the smooth floor of the Hyperion's bridge. He struggles, weakly, reaching up sluggishly to try and shove the Archon away, but it does nothing.

Even when Cade tries to speak, his voice fails him. He swallows thickly, eyes squinting against the bright lights right in front of him -- he can't place them, they're just... _there_ \-- and he focuses on moving his feet by himself instead of being dragged along. His steps slowly form into something solid, repetitive motions that are easy to count. It's not much, but it's enough to stave off the edge of panic that's begun to set in along his skin; white noise at his fingertips, growing louder when he digs them into the fabric of his sleeve. He can feel pressure building at his shoulder, followed by a sharp tear that spurns another whimper from Cade. The Archon sneers as he retracts his talons just slightly, enough for Cade to feel the warm blood now seeping from his shoulder.

"Oh, _fuck_ you." Cade hisses. He gets the distinct feeling that the Archon's enjoying this.

Ignoring Cade completely, the Archon pushes onwards, leading them down to the docking bay where kett shuttles await. Cade knows he's vastly outnumbered, trying to fight his way out would be suicidal and especially so when the Archon needs him. There's nothing he can do except wait for an opening, and so he lets himself be shoved onto a waiting shuttle, groaning as the Archon deliberately strikes his shoulder to make him move. Behind him, the shuttle doors close, and Cade braces himself for the unsteady movement as they take off.

"Pathfinder, I've arranged a distraction. If you'll excuse me, Meridian Control is waiting." The Archon announces, and it takes a second for Cade to realize he's speaking into his commlink again. Cade narrows his eyes, exhaling sharply. He's goading Scott, forcing him to play his game. While the Archon is preoccupied with his grandstanding, Cade takes a moment to spare a glance out of the minimal viewport where he can see the Hyperion drifting. It's not designed to land. There's people on board. Cade's stomach lurches at the conclusion he brings himself to.

This is going to cost them. Dearly.

Before he can do anything else, the Archon stalks back into his line of sight and stares him down. Cade doesn't back away, even when the throbbing in his shoulder intensifies.

"You are an interesting specimen." His guttural words take meaningless shape, each infliction of sound making Cade grimace, but the Archon continues regardless. "You appear human. And yet, you have been _made_. You are synthetic."

"No." Cade shakes his head, hand reaching up absently to grip his hurting arm, "I'm still human. You don't get to decide that."

The Archon grants Cade what he thinks is a smile. A crude upturn of the lips that lasts barely a moment before they shape more words.

"I am made of much more than you. Synthetic creation cannot evolve. The genetic markers of a thousand species, however, can."

Genetic-- _what?_ Cade blinks. Created. They were created. Just like the Angara. It starts to make sense, each thought a sudden vital pinprick of light in the dark and rolling skies of Heleus. Cade begins to see past the kett standing in front of him, however, even as he speaks. His voice turns into something from another mouth. It's red, angry, rumbles through the ground at Cade's feet.

Sovereign.

_"We are eternal. The pinnacle of evolution and existence."_

Cade remembers.

Except here and now, it's not Sovereign speaking. It's the Archon.

"Imposing order on the chaos of organic evolution, huh?" Cade says slowly, returning his focus to the Archon. He watches as the Archon looks taken aback for a moment, eyes narrowing in harsh scrutiny before he takes a careful step closer.

"Millions of years after your species has gone into extinction, we will endure. It is simply survival." The Archon counters.

Cade remains quiet for a moment, letting the silence stretch out. The motion of the shuttle is beginning to slow, and Cade can feel the descent taking over. His thoughts travel back to the logs he'd unlocked in Alec's room, and he's hit with a fresh wave of pain. It doesn't come from his shoulder this time though. Instead, it takes the shape of Kaidan's voice -- of Commander Alenko's voice -- and reminds him that not only did Sovereign say the same thing, but the Reapers _succeeded_.

He's not going to let that happen this time.

"And what if we don't let you continue?" Cade asks, fixing the Archon with a resolute glare.

"You have no choice." The Archon responds easily, turning as the shuttle moves in to land.

"Andromeda wasn't my choice either." Cade warns, "Without me, you wouldn't have this chance and you know it. I don't need you, Archon."

At that, the Archon stops. He glances over his shoulder, slowly, gaze sharp when it finally lands on Cade.

"You exist because I _allow_ it."

Cade smiles back at him, hollow.

"I'm not going to end because you demand it. The last guy who tried ended up in pieces."

* * *

_"Pathfinder, the Hyperion's nav-dead, that's why we lost it!"_ Suvi's voice crackles over the commlink in the Nomad, Scott gripping the wheel with a white-knuckle grip as the words sink in. He spares a fleeting glance skywards to see the Hyperion drifting out of control, and the sight flips his stomach.

"The Archon's betting we won't chase him with the ark at risk." Scott surmises, voice almost shifting into a growl. He's _furious_. They've had the ride from hell since finding out the Hyperion had been boarded, and knowing that Cade's in the middle of it all is making it so much worse. Scott can barely think straight.

A new voice jumps over the comms a moment later, and Scott recognizes it as Kandros: _"We'll guard the Hyperion."_

"Kandros? Who's with you?" Scott asks, guiding the Nomad through a dense patch of foliage, narrowly avoiding the edge of a manmade lake. Jaal loads his sniper in the seat next to him, muttering to himself. Scott's vaguely aware of Cora gripping onto the headrest of his seat from the back, peering out of the viewport through the gap between him and Jaal.

A few more voices join in, but Scott barely registers them, leaving Cora to fire the responses as quickly as she receives the communication. Scott feels a tap on the shoulder then, and Cora's voice follows.

"Keep going, Ryder. They'll take care of the Hyperion." Her voice is soft and reassuring, and Scott has an inkling that Cora might know more than she lets on. He thanks her quietly, and sets his marksmans eye on the road ahead.

They drive in relative silence for a few minutes, until the commlink crackles into life again, and Scott steels himself for whatever words are about to follow.

 _"Pathfinder? He's taken him."_ It's Captain Dunn, but her words don't make sense - not right away. Scott frowns in confusion, swerving to avoid a ditch in his momentary distraction. He rights the Nomad again and guns the accelerator with renewed desperation.

"Dunn?" Scott pushes for clarification.

 _"The core is lit up like Christmas, but SAM isn't talking. I think the Archon... shit, I don't know what he did."_ Dunn sounds panicked, words barely tumbling out in time, _"But he's taken Shepard."_

Scott can't speak for a moment.

 _"Whatever Meridian does-- he'll try to take it!"_ Dunn warns frantically, but Scott's barely listening.

If the Archon's taken Cade, this could get dangerous, and fast. Cade's a live wire, even Scott understands that - SAM was never allowed full control over Cade for a reason. If the Archon intends to unlock that connection, he would undoubtedly take Meridian for his own.

Worse than that, Scott thinks - selfishly - to himself, _far worse_ than that: he'd lose Cade.


	50. Zero Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. We did it, y'all. We finished a fic. A whole entire fic - can you believe lkdfjglksdf. I took an unexpected hiatus with this one but I so so hope it was worth it and that I haven't lost too many of you lovely lot <3 because the support has been incredible for this fic, and I never expected such a thing to turn out like it has. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart!! 
> 
> And yes, there will be an epilogue!!

It echoes.

Cade can feel it, the connection in him now seems... _everywhere_. All around him, underneath, over, miles out of reach and yet, still at his fingertips. He feels his mind moving, the mechanics of thought ticking away like a bomb inside his skull. No call, no warning. It'll only take a dangerous idea. And though his head feels impossibly heavy, he forces himself to look. To really, truly, _look_.

The corridors are vast, sprawling, but never out of turn or out of place. They have structure. Logic. A pattern that must be followed. Doors open at his will, but he has to push. He has to force them. It hurts, but not enough to stop him, so he continues on, and on, and on. From here, the gunfire is much closer, and so are the cries for help. Human, Turian, Angara, even Krogan - they're struggling. Cade is in the wrong place, he should be out there with a gun doing his job, not--

"It costs you _dearly_ not to pay attention." The Archon hovers over him, and Cade is drawn back to flesh and blood by the sting of his cheek, and the Archon's hand lingering, ready for another hit if Cade so much as looks the wrong way. He schools his expression from shock to a barely-hidden grimace, swallowing the bite of his words as he looks up at the Archon in defiance, nostrils flaring. 

"I stopped listening a while ago." Cade says pointedly, the gentle rattle and hum of the structure below them punctuating the following silence. The Archon sneers, lifting his hand as if to strike again, but he simply turns away without another word, back to his... whatever he's doing. Cade can't work it out. It's a lot of tech, a lot of guards shuffling around, and a lot of things about to go wrong. He just hopes that Scott will find them before they get a chance to try.

With the Archon leaving him alone once again, Cade shifts his seat on the floor and lays his legs down flat in front of him, hands splayed flat on the strange surface where he's sitting. It's not smooth at all, seemingly made of interlocking parts, and Cade has no idea what might make them move. This entire place - Meridian - is a mystery, and the only things he's even close to understanding are the things that only his synthetic mind can unravel. Like the Remnant. He can feel them lingering now in the hallway he'd just left, static and waiting. And if he reaches out, so do they. 

They helped him locate Scott too. He knows where they are - passing the mainframe, beyond the fighting. Heading this way. Cade shoots a quick glance to the Archon's back to make sure his attention is otherwise occupied before he closes his eyes and reaches out again.

The hallway shivers as he enters, reality struggling to remain static. He's getting weak. Not much he can do - they need him. Scott needs him. So he pushes on, his consciousness streaming down the hallways and shutting down hostile Remnant as he encounters them. He does this long enough to catch sight of Scott, Cora, and Jaal. It's relief in itself to find them, but the connection he's holding seems to be less of a burden now too. SAM? Maybe. He hasn't heard from the AI since they rebooted Scott, but he can't start worrying about that now. He has to help. He has to lead.

The first door is heavy, but Cade can get it open. An idle remnant drifts over to the entryway, catching the attention of Scott. Cade wishes he could talk, but the connection remains synthetic - no humanity in sight. Still, it seems to work. Scott is reluctant to follow at first, but once they realize the Remnant aren't hostile, they lower their guns and enter. _Good_. Cade sucks in a breath, feeling the edge of fatigue on his mind and trying to force it back. _Not yet_ , he thinks, _we've got a way to go._

"I'm confused," Cora's voice comes through, a little static-y and disjointed, but it's there. "It's... pointing us. Guiding us?" there's a question in her tone, and Cade can almost feel himself nodding 'yes', but he knows it won't reach her.

"That can't be the Archon." Scott, this time. Much, much clearer. Blue, as always, but sharp. Cold. A relief in the red-hot moments of synapse where his connection is traveling. _It's not_ , he thinks, and tries to push them on again. They're moving steadily closer, and each step they take towards him is a step out of the blue and into the black. He's leading them right into danger. The thought almost makes him stop and shut down, but how else will they stop the Archon? He needs them here. He can't-- Scott would never forgive him for sending him away.

When they make a wrong turn around the corner, Cade pulls the doors shut. _Not this way._ Scott stops, looks at the door with quiet scrutiny for a moment, but then he points the others in the direction of the door that remains open to them. Jaal is there first, sniper at the ready as always, and Cora is close behind. _Good. Keep going._

"Does the Archon have this control already?" Jaal asks, but his words are broken up. Cade struggles to hear them, but when he does, his chest siezes up a little. _No! This is me!_

"Who else could it be?" Scott's reply - clear as day - comes back, and Cade's heart sinks a little further. _Trust me. Please, trust me._ The fact Scott is still running down the corridor helps keep his worry at bay, but it's there, in the back of his mind. They almost run down the wrong way, but Cade shuts the door just in time. It hurts, now. A sharp pull at the base of his skull, at the edge of his senses, red-hot to the touch that isn't quite there. _Keep going._ Scott pulls up short of the closed door, and Cade can see the realization dawning on his face.

"More doors. I don't think this is the Archon..." Scott takes a few steps back, looking over the only door left open. He gestures for Cora and Jaal to head on through. "Cade. It must be Cade..."

Cora stops at that, turning to shoot a sharp glance at Scott. "Ryder, using the remnant hurts _you,_ let alone..."

_Don't remind him, Cora. It's alright. Keep going._

Scott just shoots Cora a despairing look in return, as if to say, what else can they do? He breaks into a jog, following Jaal down the last few corridors. It's there that Cade loses them with a sharp burst of white pain to the side of his face again, and when his eyes crack open, the Archon is there, wielding his Eye once again. Cade growls, his desire to see his crew make it safely here far overcoming the mild fear he holds of the Archon's power.

"Prepare to repeat the cortical stimulus." The Archon seethes, but not to Cade. His crew are working away behind him, and Cade just stares up at him, confused. What is he do--

Fingertips on his mind, pulling, pushing, another voice inside his head that doesn't belong there. The machine is jammed, spitting out repeated data strings that are meaningless, unworthy of attention, not what the Archon wants. Cade screams, bright red light seeping in through his eyes again, tendrils of infection closing in on the few parts of him he has left -- his mind is his own, he can't lose that, he can't--

"Get out of my head!"

"You are irrelevant. I will use your connection." The Archon explains it so matter-of-factly, Cade can't even respond. He can't interpret what the Archon just said. Words aren't-- he's jammed. He can't think.

And then another scream is ripped out of him.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time he comes around, Cade wishes he was dead. The pain is everywhere, throbbing and blinding, making him feel sick to the stomach if he even tries to look around. He's keeled over on the ground, hands curled into fists, warm blood trickling from his nose as spots the Archon leering over him, crouched. But Cade can't move, as if he has no control over any part of him, except his thoughts. And his thoughts are nothing but fear.

"There... Meridian. The network! It's so close.." The Archon sounds fascinated. Inspired, even. It's hard to see such human emotion on such a monster.

The synthetic fog over his body seems to lift, then, without warning. The Archon stands suddenly, jerking around to face a doorway that's just opened, letting red light spill into the chamber. Cade can feel the pain receding, and he manages to get to his knees, still leaning heavily on one arm as he realizes who it is.

"Took your damn time." His words are weak, almost pathetic in the face of how vast this discovery must be for Scott. But Scott doesn't seem to care as he leads Cora and Jaal further down the walkway, ignoring the Archon, delivering a proverbial middle finger to the ego that seems to drive his senseless ambition. His eyes give everything away when they land on Cade, though, and it stings a little more than the residual pain of the connection. A little more red than they ought to be, and too full of concern. Cade's facade quickly dissolves in that gaze, and he can only shake his head, dropping his eyes to the floor. _I'm sorry,_ he wants to say. He doesn't know what for. Worrying him? Probably. Scott's got enough on his plate without this bullshit on the side.

"Are you alright?" Scott is still plainly ignoring the Archon, and Cade just manages a weak, barely-there smile as he glances back up.

"Fine. Just waiting to see how this guy ends up." He nods his head towards the Archon, who, by now, is visibly bristling. Scott smiles faintly at that, nodding once in acceptance of Cade's words before he finally walks over to the front of the structure, ready to give the Archon the attention he's so clearly seeking.

"Too easy to lead them here, Archon. You like the sound of your own voice." Cade explains, just to dig the knife a little deeper. He's earned that, surely. The Archon turns at his words, striding towards Cade with anger radiating off him. It's almost scorching, but Cade's felt worse today, so he doesn't flinch.

"So determined," The Archon spits, black eyes locking onto Cade, "But so _pointless._ Your connection serves me." he dismisses Cade with a backhanded wave, turning back to the Pathfinder.

"I know how it works," The Archon continues, "The mind is trained to think like the Remnant creators. In this case, painfully. But I am content to let _you_ bear that burden." he looks pointedly at Cade's pathetic form on the ground with a sneer. Cade just lets out a humourless laugh, breathless and hollow. The Archon thinks he knows everything. He hated those kind of people back in the Milky Way, and he hates them in Andromeda no less. And it's so, _so_ bloody satisfying to tell them, just fucking once: you're wrong.

"You have no idea what you're going to do." Cade locks down the Archon with his gaze alone, daring him to contest. "You have no idea what you're about to unlock. Archon--"

"Whatever gives me Meridian." The Archon doesn't let up. He will stop at nothing. "I will transcend what you pretend to be."

"You can't even begin to think-- you've never died, Archon! You've never been made again!" Cade's anger is flaring up into all these jagged words, and somehow they make sense. Somehow, he has enough clarity to make his point land. "I can't pretend to be what I don't know. But what I don't know: they locked it up for a reason. Locked my mind. And if you break it open now..."

The Archon seems to be listening. He doesn't say a thing, however, and Cade can feel his hope slipping out of reach. He's afraid. Terrified of what might happen to him.

"Archon, we've matched you every step of the way." Scott steps up, drawing as close as he can with the chasm between the platform and the structure, "You've failed. You're the pretender here."

Something snaps in the Archon then, and Cade can feel it twinging on the edge of his own mind. _Shit._

"You learn by accident!" The Archon's rage breaks out in the cracks of his armour, words ugly and blunt in the face of such perfect engineering, "I am the genetic inheritor of a thousand species!"

Light begins to flare around him, and Cade spots the Archon's guards hooking him up directly to the structure. The crackle of an alien energy is alarming, and even more so as the Archon rises, attached to the machine like some mockery of crucifixion, and Cade struggles to his feet. He

"No more mercy." The Archon's words are resounding. "Kill them all."

Blinding white fills Cade's vision once more, but he's almost expecting it this time. And this time, he feels much stronger. The Archon is using him, yes, but he's also unlocking something, some hidden mechanic in his mind, and Cade can feel it freeing up every inch of explosive, raw power he's holding in him. His biotics thrum under his skin, and his strength seems to flood back into him with every second that the Archon pries his connection for his own gain. The sensation of power takes Cade to a dizzy height, and he feels as though he could rip the Archon right out of the mainframe - and he would, if he could fucking _move._

"Cade!" Scott's voice is somewhere out there in the blinding white, and Cade can't respond. He can only feel, just like before. He focuses everything on moving, breaking out of his prison of light.

"Can they survive drawing this much power!?" Cora's question fires out in mid-air, and Cade is lucky to catch it. Still, he can't answer. He can only listen as Scott manages a hasty reply, sounding distant - they must be moving.

"I only care about one of them!"

Maybe that was enough. Or maybe it was just coincidental timing, but Cade finally punches through the light. It shatters around him, raining down on the Archon's guards just in time for them to face their end at Cade's explosion of light. His biotics swarm around him like flames, and his consciousness is entirely streamlined, focused, a marksman's eye on the Archon's frame, strung up like a useless puppet. Is this what he wanted? Cade sneers, shooting a look behind him. He finds his team staring back, frozen, surrounded by the bodies of freshly slain Kett, but Cade doesn't have enough processing power to put that scene together yet. He just turns back to the Archon, and waits for the monster to look at him, directly.

"Is this what you wanted, Archon?" Cade goads, now that he has the upper ground. He can't resist. "To be some fucking puppet? For what end? What power? You have nothing."

The Archon struggles, more and more as Cade reroutes the power of the connection the other way, surging through the oddly familiar currents of the structure around them. It takes the interfaces out of the equation, lessens the burden on Scott - he hopes - and puts every inch of destructive force on the Archon. The creature screeches as power starts to surge through him, claws frantically trying to pull himself free from his bindings.

"The Pathfinder has done everything for our people. You are the only thing in his way. In our way. Meridian was never for you." Cade reminds him, but at this point, he takes no joy in the fear he sees behind the Archon's black eyes. He just wants it to be over.

The power coursing through him is too much for a human body. Whatever Cerberus did, they wanted him for something-- the Geth. They needed a server with an edge. An AI. Artificial intelligence in a human body, but Shepard was never meant to have this power. He was never meant to come this far. He was the one who should have died on Habitat-7, not Alec Ryder. Cerberus wanted his mind, but they never wanted Shepard. Alec insisted otherwise. In such a moment of synapse, it all becomes clear. It all unfolds in code and strings that Cade can understand now, where he never could before. And it's that realization that seals the Archon's end, as Cade sends the final surge of current right through him. It overloads him, snaps his connections, destroys his mind in a flash of light.

The silence that follows is overwhelming. Everything followed by nothing. Cade barely feels as though he's fought, and when he looks down at his hands, he sees the flicker of light constantly humming over his skin. This can't keep up. His connection... SAM has to go. Has to be locked down again. A reboot, a restart. Another zero hour.

"It's done." Scott seems to be speaking to him. Cade turns, half expecting them to have run, for some reason. To have left him behind. Out of fear, or.. necessity. What if he hadn't controlled that current? He could have so easily killed them! Panic surges, but only for a moment until Scott calls him again. "Cade. It's done."

"I know-- I can't stop. It's not me!" Cade explains, a little brokenly, his fear coming to light. He is made now of all that he is afraid of. Synthetic life in a human body. Artificial feelings. Things that don't belong to him. Scott frowns, but he seems to understand. He only gestures for Cade to come down, and Cade, for a second, almost believes Scott can single-handedly fix it all like he always does. Swallowing his fear, Cade starts to make his way down, but in a flash of light he appears on the platform next to them, and stumbles out of his momentary lapse.

"Oh- shit. You teleport now? _Okay._ Okay." Scott almost seems to be calming himself down, despite reaching out for Cade. "SAM, can we... can we shut this down?"

"His mind now has synthetic connections, Ryder." SAM's cool tones wash over Cade easily, and he finds himself calming down. It's enough for the overcurrent to slow, and the flickering light over his skin ceases. It's at this point that Scott reaches out for him, and a gloved hand curls tight around Cade's forearm, but he's still talking to SAM. The contact is a palpable relief, and Cade exhales through gritted teeth, wiping idly at his nose to clear up some of the dried blood.

"So, we keep him stable, and get Dr. Carlisle to look at it. We can fix it." Scott says, no shadow of a doubt in his words. Cade's grateful for that.

"That would be the best plan, Ryder. Although I am able to shut down his connection, I would prefer that Shepard had immediate medical attention. We cannot predict what might happen." SAM explains a little further, and Shepard feels a little twinge of warmth at the AI's preference, to keep him safe. It's a long way from where they started.

"Everyone's alright? No injuries?" Cade asks Cora and Jaal, absently slipping back into his old Commander mindspace. It's an easy default. Safe. Keeps him away from the power he's just unlocked, and grounded in something he understands. Cora manages a faint smile and a nod, and Jaal just blinks at him, looking amazed.

"Are you alright, Shepard?" Jaal's words don't take the same shape as his usual curiosity, and Cade just nods weakly at the angara. He receives a solid clap on the shoulder from Jaal then, and it puts a faint smile on Cade's face as Jaal moves up ahead with Cora after an order from Scott to start their way back. When they find themselves with a bit of breathing space, Cade is immediately pulled into an almost bone-crushing hug, Scott almost shaking against him.

"I'm sorry." Cade says, the breath forced out of him a little as he wraps his arms around Scott as best as he can. Armour isn't the best for physical contact, as it should be. Scott doesn't say anything, just stays there, and Cade lets him. It's just such a relief to no longer be hiding inside the eye of a storm, waiting for disaster to strike at any minute. It's actually over, the front has passed, and they can breathe. Cade understands it. Knows it.

A few moments pass before Scott finally leans back to look at Cade, and it's then that Cade recognizes the helmet he's wearing.

"That's mine." he says quietly, words nothing but fond. The warmth in his chest brightens further, and he smiles crookedly as he knocks the side of the helmet gently, earning a weak laugh from Scott. "But by now, you more than deserve to wear it." Cade tells him gently, eyeing the blood-red stripe that marks its importance. N7. Nothing without sacrifice. And Scott has sacrificed plenty.

"I-- I didn't want to wear it. I know what it means, but mine got smashed in the mess coming down here." Scott admits, and Cade just smiles a little brighter.

"As far as I'm concerned, _Ryder_... N7 is a rank you can claim." Cade chuckles quietly, a little hoarse as he adopts his best Commander-voice, and Scott just gives him a shove, his own laugh mixing with Cade's.

"Maybe one day. But right now, I want to make sure you're alright. And we've got plenty of people waiting for us..." Scott says, looking towards the way out. Cade can see the clear apprehension in his eyes, and he squeezes Scott's arms gently.

"For _you,_ Scott. And for good reason. Humanity has a home. That's no small thing." Cade reminds him, stepping back. "They'll be wanting to see the face of their hero, you know." _And so do I_ , he thinks.

Scott sighs, unclasping his helmet to take it off, shooting Cade a questioning glance. "You're coming with me, right?"

Cade just smiles. Those bright blue eyes, always so inquisitive.

"Anywhere you go, Scott." Cade confirms, and he knows those words will follow him to the end of his days, wherever they may go.


End file.
